.y 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


1.1 


11.25 


■ti|2A  122 

1^    12.0 


U 


I4P 


7 


Hiotographic 

Sdences 

Coipordtion 


23  WEST  MAIN  STRUT 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  t72-4503 


.^ 


■S5 


^\ 


fv 


%^  ^  "«*. 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/iCIVlH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  institute  for  Historical  IVIicroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


Tschnical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha 
toti 


Tha  Inatituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
originai  copy  avaSlabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibiiographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
tha  uaual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  ehackad  balow. 


□   Colourad  eovara/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


r~n   Covara  damagad/ 


D 


D 


D 
D 


D 


Couvartura  andommagia 

Covara  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  raataurte  at/ou  pallicuMa 


r~n   Covar  titia  miaaing/ 


La  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 


□   Colourad  mapa/ 
Cartas  gAographiquaa  wt  coulaur 


Colourad  ink  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black)/ 
Enera  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 


I — I   Colourad  plataa  and/or  illuatrationa/ 


D 


Planchaa  at/ou  illuatrationa  9n  coulaur 


Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
RaM  avac  d'autraa  documonta 


Tight  binding  may  causa  ahadowa  or  distortion 
along  intarior  margin/ 

Lareiiura  aarria  paut  cauaar  da  I'ombra  ou  da  la 
diatoraion  la  tong  da  la  marga  iniiriaura 

Blank  laavaa  addad  during  rastoration  may 
appaar  within  tha  taxt.  Whanavar  poaaibia,  thasa 
hava  baan  omittad  from  filming/ 
II  aa  paut  qua  cartainaa  pagaa  blanchas  a|outias 
lors  d'una  raatauration  apparaiaaant  dana  la  taxta. 
maia,  loraqua  cala  Atait  poaaibia,  caa  pagaa  n'ont 
paa  «t«  fllmiaa. 

Additional  commanta:/ 
Commantairas  suppl^mantairas; 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  maillaur  axamplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  iti  poaaibia  da  sa  procurer.  Las  details 
da  cat  axamplaira  qui  sont  paut-Atra  uniquaa  du 
point  da  vua  bibliographiqua,  qui  pauvant  modifiar 
una  imaga  raproduita,  ou  qui  pauvant  axigar  una 
modification  dana  la  mAthoda  normaia  da  filmaga 
aont  indiquia  ci-daaaoua. 


□  Colourad  pagaa/ 
Pagaa  da  coulaur 

□   Pagaa  damagad/ 
Pagaa  andommagiaa 

□   Pagaa  raatorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Pagaa  raataurtaa  at/ou  paiiiculAaa 

0   Pagaa  diacolourad.  stainad  or  foxad/ 
Pagaa  dAcolorias.  tachat^as  ou  piquAes 


D 


Tha 
poa 
oft 
film 


Ori| 
bag 
tha 
aioi 
oth( 
firat 
aior 
oril 


r~n   Pagaa  datachad/ 


Pagaa  dAtachtea 

Showthrough/ 
Transparanca 

Quality  of  prin 

Qualit*  inigaia  da  I'imprassion 

Includaa  aupplamantary  matarii 
Comprand  du  material  auppl^mantaira 

Only  adition  avaiiabia/ 
Saula  Mition  diaponibia 


r^  Showthrough/ 

r~|  Quality  of  print  variaa/ 

pn  Includaa  aupplamantary  matarial/ 

r~~|  Only  adition  avaiiabia/ 


Thfl 
aha 
TIN 
whi 

Mai 
diff 
anti 
ba( 
rigl 
raq 
ma 


Pagaa  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  hava  been  ref limed  to 
enaura  tha  best  possible  image/ 
Lea  pagea  totalement  ou  partieilement 
obscurcies  par  un  fauillet  d'errata.  una  pelure. 
etc.,  ont  ^ti  filmies  A  nouveau  da  fa^on  A 
obtanir  la  meilleure  imaga  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  eat  film*  au  taux  da  rMuction  indiqu*  ci-deaaoua. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

XX 

y 

12X 


16X 


aox 


24X 


28X 


32X 


ilt 
du 

difisr 
in« 
lage 


Th«  copy  filmed  hcra  has  b««n  r«produe«d  thanks 
to  ths  flsnsrosity  of: 

BibllothAque  nationals  du  Quibsc 


Ths  imsgss  sppssring  hsrs  srs  ths  bsst  quality 
possibis  considsring  ths  condition  snd  Isglblllty 
of  ths  originsi  copy  snd  in  kssping  with  ths 
filming  contract  spscifications. 


Original  copiss  In  printsd  pspsr  eovsrs  ars  fllmsd 
bsglnning  with  ths  front  covsr  snd  snding  on 
ths  Isst  psgs  with  a  printsd  or  liiustratad  imprss- 
sion,  or  ths  bsck  covsr  whsn  spproprists.  All 
othsr  originsi  copiss  srs  fllmsd  bsglnning  on  ths 
first  psgs  with  s  printsd  or  lllustrstsd  Imprss- 
sion,  and  snding  on  ths  last  pags  with  s  printsd 
or  iiiustrstsd  imprsssion. 


Ths  Isst  rscordsd  frsms  on  ssch  microfichs 
shsli  contain  ths  symbol  — ^>  (mssning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  ths  symbol  ▼  (mssning  "END"), 
whichsvsr  sppliss. 


L'sxsmplaira  film*  fut  raproduit  grica  k  la 
g4n4roaltA  da: 

BibilothAqus  nstionals  du  QuAbsc 


Lss  Imsgss  suKrsntss  ont  4tA  rsprodultss  svsc  is 
plus  grsnd  soin,  compts  tsnu  ds  Is  condition  st 
ds  Is  nsttsti  ds  I'sxsmpisirs  fiimA.  st  sn 
conformity  svsc  lss  conditions  du  contrst  ds 
fllmsgs. 

Lss  sxsmplslrss  origlnsux  dont  is  couvsrturs  sn 
psplsr  sst  imprimis  sont  fllmis  sn  commsnpsnt 
psr  Is  prsmisr  pist  st  sn  tsrmlnsnt  soit  psr  is 
dsrnlArs  psgs  qui  comports  uns  smprsints 
d'imprssslon  ou  d'lllustrstion,  soit  psr  is  sscond 
plat,  sslon  Is  ess.  Tous  lss  sutrss  sxsmplslrss 
origlnsux  sont  fllmte  sn  commsnpsnt  psr  is 
prsmlArs  psgs  qui  comports  uns  smprsints 
d'imprssslon  ou  d'lllustrstion  st  sn  tsrminsnt  psr 
is  dsrnlArs  psgs  qui  comports  uns  tslls 
smprsints. 

Un  dss  symboiss  suK/snts  sppsrsttrs  sur  Is 
dsrnlArs  imsgs  ds  chsqus  microfichs,  sslon  is 
cas:  la  symbols  -^-  signifis  "A  8UIVRE",  is 
symbols  V  signifis  "FIN". 


Mspo,  pistss,  chsrts.  stc,  msy  bs  fllmsd  st 
diffsrsnt  rsduction  rstlos.  Thoss  too  Isrgs  to  bs 
sntirsly  includsd  in  ons  sxposurs  srs  fllmsd 
bsglnning  in  ths  uppsr  isft  hsnd  cornsr,  Isft  to 
right  snd  top  to  bottom,  ss  msny  frsmss  as 
rsquirsd.  Ths  following  disgrsms  iiiustrsts  ths 
msthod: 


Lss  csrtss,  pisnchss,  tsbissux,  stc,  psuvsnt  Atrs 
filmte  6  dss  tsux  ds  reduction  diff Arsnts. 
Lorsqus  Is  documsnt  sst  trop  grsnd  pour  Atrs 
rsprodult  sn  un  ssul  ciSchA,  11  sst  film*  A  psrtir 
ds  i'sngis  supArisur  gsuchs,  ds  gsuchs  A  droits, 
st  ds  hsut  sn  iMs,  sn  prsnsnt  is  nombrs 
d'imsgss  nAcsssslrs.  Lss  disgrsmmss  suivants 
iliustrsnt  is  mithods. 


rats 

9 


lelurs. 


3 


32X 


c    1 

2 

3 

v  .'- 


,■     .    1;.    .; 

.^■■M.-,, 

:...*.    - 

4 

5 

6 

; 


m .    V 


m . 


V,  ** 


,■»  > 


H 


s 


THE 


/ 


YOUNG  CONVEETS; 


OB 


MEMOIBS  OF  THE  THREE  SISTERS, 


-I 


\ 


DEBBIE,  HELEN  AND  ANNA  BARLOJT. 

Z /yc"        7    ^ 


EDITED  BY  THE  REV.  I.  T. 


*     •     »  •A^Kc' 


•••.  .• 


••      ••   • 


Im  1 0rk : 


PUBLISHED  BY  P.  0!SHEA,  104  BLEBCKER-STRBET. 

1861. 


»*!«•*'*«•.■  *fs; 


l7' 

ii'     iiiiiiWr 


n^ 


■T^ 


i 


y^-  ~. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


•> 


The  great  work  to  which  all  things  in  this  world  are 
subordinated,  is  that  of  man's  xeclemption. 

This  work,  for  which  God  became  man,  is  continued 
tlirongh  His  organ— the  Church.  The  Church  is  therefore 
the  real  centre  of  the  world— the  conversion  of  the  world 
is  the  great  work  of  the  Church. 

It  matters  not  where  the  Church  is  placed— tUs  ehe  r^ 
gards  always  as  her  work.  It  matters  not  how  feeble  maj 
be  her  means,  or  how  great  may  be  her  trials,  she  never 
interrupts  this  work ;  for  she  is  conscious— 4die  k^ows — 
that  she  has  with  her  Him  who  conquered  ^the  world. 
Hence  she  always  works  with  the  conviction  of  conquering. 
How  unequal  was  an  illiterate,  coarsely  clad  peasant  to 
.the  task  of  conquering  an  empire  which  gave  the  law  to 
all  nations  I  Yet  Peter,  the  Gallilean  flsherman,  as  the 
Apostle  of  Christ,  was  more  tiian  a  match  for  Borne.  The 
Cross  nirmottuts  the  Eagle. 

The  Church  never  counts  numbers,  or  nguda  positicm. 
She  enters  with  the  same  seal  and  the  same  hofw  on  the 
instruction  of  an  untutored  laborer  or  poor  servant  girt,  aa 
ca  the  conversion  of  philosophers,  or  men  of  wealth  and 
rank.  The  obstacles  to  be  overcome  are  to  her  a  matter 
of  small  consequence.  Paganism,  barbarism,  tyranny, 
license,  pride  of  intellect,  heresy,  fitlse  civilization,  raoe, 
color— she  grapples  with  them  all.     In  her  dwells  Him 


ii 


"H 


^•i 


3441^ 


ir 


idhor's  preface. 


whose  power  li  irresistible,  whose  wisdom  is  all-oompre- 
hensiTe,  whose  love  is  all-embrftcing— who  weighs  all 
things,  and  accomplishes  all  mightily  and  gently. 

Such  she  has  ever  been-Hi|ioh  she  will  be  always  to  the 
end.  The  Church  knows  no  age ;  the  command  to  teach 
all  nations  was  for  all  people  and  for  all  times.  It  was 
the  thirst  for  the  conversion  of  souls  that  first  led  her 
steps  to  the  New  World ;  and  now  that  she  has  existence 
"here,  shall  she  not  earnestly  desire  to  win  the  people 
to  her  faith  ?  To  work  for  the  conversion  of  the  people 
of  the  country  is  a  necessity  of  her  being— it  is  her  life 
and  existence ;  and  as  we  live  her  life,  sympathize  with 
her  aims,  identify  our  interest  with  hers,  it  becomes  our 
work,  our  life  and  existence.  To  be  a  member  of  the 
Church,  then,  is  to  labor  in  whatever  position  God  has 
placed  us,  for  the  conversion  of  our  people.  This  is  only 
saying  in  other  words, "  We  are  Catholics." 

Will  she  meet  with  success  in  this  work  ?  A  child  of 
the  mother  of  heroes  and  martyrs  will  not  stop  to  ask  this 
question.  Has  she  not  made  conquest  of  the  pagan  world, 
triumphing  over  all  its  idolatries  and  superstitions  ?  Has 
she  not  converted  and  civilized  the  northern  tribes  of 
Europe,  notwithstanding  their  rude  genius  and  the  bar- 
barism of  their  customs?  And  is  it  a  great  stretch  of 
fidth  to  predict  for  her  in  this  noblest  and  fairect  field — 
where^she  hasiUll  sway  to  exercise  her  divine  mission — a 
victory  alike  worthy  of  the  intelligence  of  the  American 
people,  and  her  power  as  the  Bride  of  Christ 

But  the  bright  anticipations  of  faith,  however  well 
founded,  are  not  all  we  have  to  rely  on.    The  Church  has 


Sl)ITOR*S   FRIFACI. 


already  done  a  great  deal  aa  Amerioan  aoU.  Her  labor 
and  BQceen  in  reclaiming  the  aboriginal  children  of  oar 
forests,  fiimish  some  of  ttie  moat  pleasing  pages  of  Ameri- 
oan history.  Nor  in  she  without  her  triamphs  among 
the  flree  and  intelligent  people  who  have  sooceeded  to  the 
American  name.  Her  nnmbers  increase  erory  day. 
Statesmen,  philosophers,  poets,  jurists,  the  high  in  birth, 
the  lowly  bom,  the  young  and  the  old,  men  of  every 
rank,  positicm,  and  profession— «lloome  to  swell  her  ranio. 
There  is  hardly  a  family  of  any  ^stinction  in  the  country 
that  does  not  number  among  its  members  one  or  more 
converts  to  her  faith.  Indeed  Tertullian's  famous  descrip 
tion  of  the  spread  of  the  Ghuroh  in  the  second  century, 
may  be  not  inaptly  ai^lied  to  the  growth  of  the  Church 
among  our  people  in  our  day :  ''  We  are  a  people  of  yeeter> 
day,  yet  we  have  filled  every  place  belonging  to  your 
cities,  islands,  castles,  towns,  assembliea— your  very  camps, 
your  tribes,  companies,  palace,  senate,  forum  I  We  leave 
your  temples  only.*  •  •  •  Men  cry  out  that  the  state  is  be- 
set, that  the  Christians  are  in  their  fields,  in  their  forts,  ii? 
thteir  islands.  They  mourn,  as  for  a  loss,  that  every  seic, 
age,  condition,  and  now  every  rank,  is  going  over  to  this 
secf't 

Perhaps  in  no  part  of  the  country  can  the  Church  look 
for  a  speedier  triumph  than  in  New  England.  Nowhere 
are  the  people  more  susceptible  of  religious  impressions. 
It  is  firom  a  misdirected  religious  enthusiasm  that  those 
various  sects  and  erratic  movements  peculiar  to  the  New 
England  States,  take  their  rise.    When  tiie  attenticm  of 


•  Apology. 


f  Ad  ScapHla,  xzxril. 


vl 


EDITORS  PREFACE. 


BOoh  a  people  shall  htve  been  gained  and  applied  to  the 
study  of  the  claims  of  the  Catholic  religion,  New  Englimd 
will  recognize  its  dirine  character,  and  proclaim  itiielf 
Catholic.  Then,  instead  of  sending  forth  propagandllsts 
and  emissaries  of  error,  strife  and  discord,  her  Misrionaiies 
will  be  most  active  heralds  in  publishing  truth  and  petxse 
through  their  fair  and  fruitful  land.  May  this  Uttle 
volume,  the  narrative  of  the  conversion  of  three  of  the 
daughters  of  New  England,  not  be  altogether  without  its 
influence  in  bringing  about  such  a  result  The  simple 
story  of  the  conquest  of  the  young  heart  by  religion— of 
the  honest  overcoming  of  instilled  prejudices,  of  fidelity 
to  grace,  sacrifice  for  conscience'  sake,  and  loyalty  to  Gk)d 
—will  perhaps  produce  a  deeper  impression  in  many  minds^ 
on  behalf  of  the  Catholic  religion,  than  a  more  ambitioua 
and  labored  apology.  I.  T.  H. 


[issbnarg  f  ohm  of  *i  ^anl  tfet  glp00ile, 

New  Tors,  Feast  of  the  Immaoalate  Conception,  1860. 


/I 


PREFACE  OF  THE  COMPILER. 


TO  THE  YOUNG  CATHOLICS  OP  THE  DIOCESE  OP 
BURLINGTON,  Vt.  : 

My  Dear  Young  Friends — Soon  after  the 
death  of  Debbie  Barlow  in  April,  I  received 
a  letter  from  our  venerated  Bishop  requesting; 
me  to  prepare  and  present  to  your  perusal  & 
little  sketch  of  the  edifying  lives  of  the  three 
sisters  of  whom  she  was  the  oldest.  I  could 
not  hesitate  to  comply,  though  I  distrusted  my 
own  ability  to  perform  what  was  required  in 
a  satisfactory  manner.  Feeling  at  once  the 
need  of  more  material  than  I  could  have 
access  to  here,  I  went  to  the  Convent  in  Mon- 
tcgal,  where  I  found  it  in  greater  abundance 
than  I  could  have  expected.  The  recollec- 
tions of  my  sojourn  at  the  delightful  board- 
ing-school retreat  of  the   Congregation  do 


yiU  PREFACE. 

Notre  Dame  at  Villa  Maria,  (formerly  Monk- 
lands,)  on  Montreal  Mountain— of  the  polite 
hospitality  with  which  I  was  entertained — of 
my  enjoyment  in  the  society  of  the  pious  and 
intelligent  sisters,  and  participation  in  the  re- 
ligious privileges  of  that  favored  abode,  will 
be  gratefully  cherished  while  I  live.  By  the 
aid  of  the  copious  subject-matter  there  ob- 
tained, ai^<jl  her  letters  written  to  her  parents 
at  various  intervals  when  she  was  absent  from 
home,  my  task  has  been  a  light  one  in  compar- 
ison with  what  I  expected :  the  compilation 
and  arrangement  of  it,  having  formed  the 
chief  part  of  the  labor.  Hoping  it  may  prove 
as  interesting  and  edifying  to  ^ou  in  the  peru- 
sal as  it  has  been  to  me  in  the  preparation, 
and  humbly  recommending  myself  to  your 
prayers,  I  remain  your  devoted  friend, 


The  Compileb. 


Bdblinoton,  June  11, 1860. 


# 


INTRODUCTION. 


Som  time  in  the  early  part  of  Febmary,  1853,  a  lady 
was  paaiing  the  day  with  her  young  and  inralid  daughter, 
in  the  village  of  St.  Albans,  VermoDt,  and  awaiting,  in  the 
parlor  of  a  hotel,  the  arrival  of  some  friends — whom  they 
were  expecting — in  the  can  fl^m  the  South.    Soon  after 
they  Entered  the  parlor,  two  young  girls,  apparently  but 
slightly  separated  as  to  age,  (the  younger  one  being  a  little 
the  taller  of  the  two,)  entered  also,  having  evidentfy  but 
just  arrived  after  a  drive  of  considerable  length  in  the  cold 
morning  air.    Their  interesting  appearance  and  engaging 
manners  attracted  the  attention  of  the  mother  and  daugh- 
ter,  and  led  them  into  coDjectures  as  to  who  they  could 
be,  which  were  soon  solved  by  the  entrance  of  their  welU 
Icaown  father,  who  immediately  introduced  the  beantiftil 
young  strangers  as  his  oldest  daughters,  Debbie  and  Helen 
Barlow,  then  of  Fairfield,  a  village  about  eight  miles  to 
the  east  of  St.  Albans.'   He  was  on  his  way  with  them  to 
Montreal,  where  he  designed  to  place  them  in  the  board- 
ing-school of  the  Ladies  of  the  Congregation  of  N«tre 
Dame,  for  their  education.    As  the  young  invalid  to  whom 
I  have  alludeSthad  been  a  pupil  in  a  convent,  they  were 
much  interested  to  learn  from  her  all  they  could  of  the 
general  rules  and  routine,  both  as  to  studies  and  recreation 
in  such  institutions,  and  the  elder  one,  especially,  addressed 
inquiries  to  h6r  in  relation  to  those  matters,  that  evinced 


^J 


V^T 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

':^t^  a  degree  of  intelligence,  forethonght  and  prudence,  very 

,*  remarkable  in  one  so  young.  Her  replies  were  far  from 
encouraging,  for  she  knew  by  experience  that  the  firm, 
though  perfectly  mild  restrains  which  constantly  encompass 
the  convent  pupil,  under  all  circumstances,  are  extremely 
irksome  at  first,  even  to  Catholics  who  are  subjected  to 
them  after  having  been  accustomed  to  the  freedom  from 
discipline  which  characterizes  the  training  of  our  young 
people  generally,  both  at  home  and  in  our  schools,  whether 
to  their  advantage  or  disadvantage  the  consequences  thereof 
must  testify.  She  closed  her  remarks,  however,  by  as- 
suring them  that  though  they  would  shrink  from  the  sys- 
tem in  the,l^ginning,  and  probably  be  quite  homesick  for 
the  first  few  weeks,  yet  they  would  form  so  strong  an  at- 
tachment to  it,  if  they  remained  long  enough  to  become 
habituated  to  its  silent  influence,  as  to  fe^l  more  painfully 
still,  upon  their  return  home,  their  release  from  the  gentle 
and  salutary  enthralment,  than  they  did  the  first  exercise 
of  its  restraining,  directing  and  controlling  power.  They 
have  often  assured  me  since,  that  these  remarks  were  use- 
ful  in  preparing  them  for  a  life  so  new,  and  proved  true 
in  every  respect,  only  that  they  were  less  annoyed  by  their 
subjection  to  its  discipline,  and  recognized  more  immedi- 
ately its  wholesome  effect  than  they  had  expected.  The 
lady  alluded  to  did  not  see  them  again  until  the  winter 
.  after  they  left  the  convent,  though  she  had  heard,  with 
such  metisure  of  incredulity  as  may  eafely  be  allowed  to 
most  rumors  of  the  kind,  (however  trae  they  may  have 
proved  in  this  instance,)  that  they  had  been  removed  in 
consequence  of  -an  apprehension  on  the  part  of  their 


INTRODUCTION. 


H   ,. 


parents  that  the  Catholic  religion  was  malcing  sach  farora- 
hle  impreflsions  on  their  young  minds  and  hearts  as  to  en- 
danger their  Protestantism.    Daring  the  winter  sncceeding 
their  return,  and  the  death  of  her  daughter,  who  has  been 
mentioned,  she  passed  some  time  at  St.  Albans,  and  was 
often  visited  by  Debbie  Barlow,  who  was  in  the  habit  of 
maldng  excursions  from  Fairfield  to  St.  Albans  frequently. 
In  the  course  of  those  visits  she  discovered  that  the  re- 
ports touching  the  interest  which  her  lovely  young  friend 
cherished  in  the  Catholic  religi  >a'vere  true ;  and  knowing 
better  the  sore  trials  which  must  beset  the  path  of  the 
young  pilgrim  in  that  direction,  than  she  did  the  flrmnefls 
of  purpose  and  strength  of  character  to  sustain  them  with 
which  she  was  gifted,  maintained  a  quiet  though  prayerftil 
reserve  upon  the  subject,  under  the  flill  assurance  that  if 
the  work  was  indeed  from  Ood,  it  would  be  perfected  in 
His  own  good  time  and  way.    This  reserve,  wUle  it  really 
grieved  the  sensitive  and  affectionate  heart  of  the  beloved 
child,  drew  from  her  sallies  of  playAil  wit  upon  some  oc- 
casions, and  upon  others  serious  remonstrances,  which  dis- 
covered both  the  brilliancy  of  her  genius,  and  the  earnest- 
ness and  depth  of  her  reasonings  and  convictions. 

The  character  of  Debbie  Bari'ow  was  indeed  one  of  rare 
strength  and  excellence.  Endowed  with  an  intuitive 
sense  of  the  good  and  the  beautiful,  as  quick  to  appreciate 
as  she  was  eager  to  seek  them  in  every  subject  which  was 
presented  to  her  notice,  (however  much  popular  prejudice 
might  have  sought  to  distort  it,)  and  equally  able  to  dis- 
cern their  opposites  under  whatever  disguises  they  might 
appear.    Her  very  childhood  surprised  us  with  the  calm 


-.*..■ 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION. 


m- 


resulte  and  thoughtful  eBtimates  of  an  intellect  bo  thorough- 
ly well-baianced,  so  firee  from  apalh  j  on  the  one  hand  and 
enthudaem  on  the  other,  as  wcmen  rarely  posEees  even  at 
maturity. 

In  the  mode  which  I  have  chosen  for  the  introduction  of 
my  subject,  I  am  well  aware  that  I  have  departed  from 
the  course  usual  to  biography.  It  may  be  thought  that  I 
have  presented  it  too  abruptly,  with  too  little  formality. 
It  was  perhaps  to  be  expected  that  I  should  enter  with  my 
young  firiend  into  the  home  of  her  childhood,  and  represent 
to  my  readers  the  brilliant  prospects  which  opened  before 
her  as  she  stood  in  all  the  freshness  of  youth  and  beauty,  and 
in  the  plenitude  of  her  talents  and  accomplishments,  upon 
the  threshold  of  life — ^the  pride  of  her  fond  and  indulgent 
parents— surrounded  by  the  advantages  of  wealth  and  in- 
timate connection  with  many  distinguished  families  of 
Vermont  and  New  York,  and  beset  with  allurements 
which  would  have  enticed  a  heart  less  pure,  and  asphra- 
tions  less  simple,  to  a  lasting  union  with  the  vanities  of 
time  and  sense ;  and  it  is  indeed  proper  that  I  should  here 
allude  to  these  circumstances,  in  order  to  |^ve  due  credit 
to  the  discrimination  and  firmness  with  which  she  weighed 
them  all  in  the  balance  against  Eternity,  and,  having  so 
proved  their  emptiness,  launched  her  frail  bark  courage- 
ously upon  a  stormy  flood  to  encounter  buffetings  from 
the  wild  billows  of  opposition  and  contempt,  and  to  strug- 
gle against  their  power,  until  the  peaceful  haven  towards 
which  all  her  desires  and  efforts  were  directed  should  be 
securely  attained.  With  the  history  of  these  struggles, 
from  the  moment  that  the  first  gentle  influences  of  Divine 


INTRODUCTION. 


Xlll 


grace  settled  down  into  her  fervent  soul,  and  the  first  faint 
rays  of  Truth  dawned  upon  her  clear  intellect,  until  their 
glorious  and  triumphant  close,  the  heart  of  every  Catholic, 
whether  old  or  young,  must  be  deeply  interested. 

It  is  the  design  of  elucidating  these,  for  the  edification 
and  instruction  of  my  dear  young  Catholic  fHends,  that 
animates  my  heart,  and  inspires  me  with  courage  lovingly 
to  undertake  this  labor,  even  while  shrinking  from  it 
depressed  with  the  consciousness  of  my  own  incompe- 
tence to  do  justice  to  my  exalted  sense  of  the  beauty  and 
merit  of  its  subject.  Indeed  I  should  hardly  have  dared 
the  attempt,  had  it  not  happened  that  the  lady  who  was 
her  dearest  friend  and  teacher,  at  the  convent,  and  with 
whoih  she  corresponded  at  irregular  intervals  from  the 
time  she  left  the  boarding-school,  liad,  contrary  to  the 
usual  practice  of  the  religious  orders,  careMly  preserved 
most  of  her  letters  and  fragments  of  her  writings  while  at 
the  school,  which  fell  in  her  way,  convinced  that  tliey 
were  the  productions  of  a  remarkable  mind  and  heart- 
These  she  very  kindly  offered  to  my  inspection,'  that  I 
might  extract  from!  their  contents  whatever  I  found  that 
could  aid  me  in  the  frilfillment  of  my  undertaking,  in  the 
object  of  which  she,  in  common  with  the  whole  devoted 
community  to  which  she  belongs,  entertains  the  deepest 
interest.  She  also  promised  to  furnish  me  with  any  in. 
formation  in  her  power,  which  might  serve  to  supply 
misnng  links  in  the  chain  of  our  little  history. 

By  availing  myself  of  her  ofi'er,  and  important  assistance 
also  (during  a  recent  visit  to  Montreal),  in  selecting,  ar- 

ranj^ng,  and  copying  these  copious  extracts,  I  hope  to 

2 


^ 


It. 


i'^ 


■■^ 


f:. 


xiy 


INTRODUCTION. 


enable  our  lamented  young  friend— though  her  fait  form 
reposes  in  the  Halls  of  Silence,  and  we  shall  listen  no 
more  on  earth  to  the  tones  of  a  voice  whose  utterances 
were  as  music  to  our  ears— to  discourse  with  us  yet,  elo* 
quently  and  impressively,  through  the  sentiments  and  the 
events  which  her  own  pen  recorded,  in  her  artless  and  ad- 
mirable manner,  thus 

"  DepoiUiog  upon  the  silent  shore 
or  memorf ,  images  utA  preoioas  tboagbts 
That  shall  not  die,  and  cannot  be  destroyed. 


h 


0 


^V»  ,iM<mtttwnii 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


On  the  ninth  day  of  February,  1853,  Debbie 
Barlow  first  entered  the  Convent  of  the  Con- 
gregation of  Notre  Dame,  as  a  pupil  in  that 
excellent  institution.  She  was  then  just  about 
fifteen  years  of  age,  and  her  sister  Helen,  who 
accompanied  her,  was  about  thirteen.  As  the 
history  of  the  first  impressions  upon  her  mind, 
as  well  as  their  subsequent  development,  will 
interest  and  edify  my  young  readers,  I  must 
daim  their  attention  and  indulgence,  if  I  en> 
ter  more  minutely  into  its  details  than  would, 
at  the  first  glance,  seem  necessary.  When 
they  passed  through  the  large  gate  which 
opens  from  Notre-Dame  Street  into  the  in- 
closure  of  the  Institution,  "  the  Convent 
walls,"  to  use  her  own  expression,  "  looked  so 
gray,  so  dark,  so  dismal !"  that  the  sight  of 
them  made  her  heart  sink  with  dread,  and  she 
entered  beneath  their  shadow  with  such  shrink- 
ing reluctance  that,  according  to  her  own  ac- 


,.,«Mi«f« 


16 


THM  TOUNG  CONVERTS. 


,p^ 


count  of  it,  nothing  conld  have  sustained  hor 
under  the  parting  with  her  father,  but  the  con- 
viction that  it  was  her  duty  to  make  this  sac- 
rifice of  her  feelings  to  please  him,  after  he 
had  so  kindly  exerted  himself  to  secure  its 
valuable  advantages  for  her  education.  When 
she  had  been  there  two  days,  she  wrote  the 
following  letter  to  her  mother  : 

"  My  Dear  Mother — ^Here  I  am  seated  in 
a  convent,  (will  you  laugh  at  the  idea  ?)  writ- 
ing to  ^ou.  Despite  my  aversion  to  the  Ro- 
man Catholic  religion  and  the  various  prayers 
we  are  obliged  to  attend  upon,  I  am  very  con- 
tented. To  be  sure  I  feel  the  same  as  regards 
the  doctrines  of  this  Church  as  I  always  have, 
and  my  dislike  to  worship  as  they  do  is  the 
same  as  when  I  was  at  l^pme ;  but  outward 
forms  will  not  change  the  heart ;  it  is  mockery 
for  me  to  bow  to  the  image  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  and  even  if  I  did  that,  it  would  be  only 
because  I  was  compelled  to  do  so,  and  if  the 
nuns  know  it  they  will  certainly  not  oblige  me 
me  to  do  it.  I  canaot  turn  my  eyes  in  any 
direction  without  beholding  some  statue  or 
painting.    The  prayers  are  mostly  in  French, 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS* 


n 


and  I  do  hot  understand  them  at  all.  The 
h]rmns  arc  sung  to  the  Mother  of  God,  and  in- 
deed it  seems  to  me  that  they  put  their  whole 
trust  in  her,  but  I  suppose  they  do  not.  How- 
ever, my  belief  is,  that  we  are  commanded  to 
worship  one  God  only.  But  no  more  of  thip. 
The  nuns  are  very  kind  and  no  one  can  help 
loving  them.  The  wishes  of  their  pupils  are 
all  granted,  as  far  at  least,  as  would  be  best 
for  their  interests.  *  *  *  I  will  close  here,  for 
I  cannot  write  all  the  particulars  concerning 
the  school ;  I  will  in  my  next.  No  one  sees 
our  letters  except  one  of  the  nuns.  Helen  is 
perfectly  contented  and  sends  love,  etc."  *  * 

A  fortnight  later,  she  wrote  to  her  mother, 
under  date  of  March  1st : 

'•  *  *  I  presume  you  have  heard  from  father 
all  about  our  journey  from  home  here,  so  I  will 
leave  that  and  continue.  We  entered  the 
convent  on  Wednesday,  were  received  very 
kindly  by  the  nuns  whom  you  have  no  idea  of 
at  all ;  they  are  very  pleasant  and  seem  to  be 
very  happy.  There  are  many  that  I  should 
think  are  quite  young  and  accomplished,  and, 
we  should  think  if  we  had  them  in  the  world, 

2» 


18 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


I 


great  additions  to  society.  They  are  devoted 
to  their  religion,  beyond  my  power  to  express. 
Thcjp  introduced  us  to  some  of  the  young 
ladierwho  seemed  very  amiable  and  who  did 
their  best  to  show  us  the  varioua  rooms,  and 
inform  us  of  the  rules  and  requirements  of  the 
the  school ;  at  evening  the  whole  school  as- 
sembled in  the  recreation  room,  which  is  large 
and  divided  into  two  parts,  one  for  the  smaller 
children,  and  the  other  for  the  older  girls. 
You  may  imagine  the  noise  we  made,  for  there 
were  no  less  than  one  hundred  and  forty  of  us. 
There  was  a  nun  in  each  room  to  oversee  the 
plays,  and  who  seemed  to  enjoy  it  as  well  as 
we  did  ourselves.  We  did  almost  anything 
we  wished  ;  some  were  seated  in  groups,  talk- 
ing on  all  subjects,  others  were  promenading 
up  and  down  the  rooms,  some  were  standing 
around  the  nun's  chair  (which  was  raised  some 
height  from  the  floor),  talking  with  her,  and 
others  were  singing  and  dancing,  jumping  the 
rope,  etc.  Soon  the  folding-doors  opened  and 
the  younger  children  came  marching  through, 
headed  by  one  they  had  chosen  for  their 
leader,  and  who  seemed  to  be  the  liead  one  in 


jtiiLijiimi 


THE  YOUNQ   CONVERTS. 


19 


all  their  plays.    They  were  singing  a  march, 
and  you  may  bo  sure  they  looked  very  pretty  ; 
at  the  command,  of  their  leader,  (who  was  a 
noble-looking  child,)  they  marched  round  the 
room  several  times  and  then  returned  ;  there 
were  at  least  fifty  of  them.    We  spent  the 
evening  very  pleasantly,  and  at  eight  o'clock 
the  bell  rung  for  us  to  go' to  prayers.    We 
went  to  the  chapel,  which  is  very  pretty  in- 
deed ;  it  is  adjoining  the  dining-room,  and  I 
should  think  that  it  was  purposely  for  evening 
or  private  devotions  ;*  the  altar  is  small,  but 
beautiful ;  it  is  gilded  and  decorated  with 
statues,  crucifix  and  silver  candlesticks,  with 
wax  tapers,  etc.,  etc.    The  walls  are  also  hung 
with  very  beautiful  paintings  of  our  Lord, 
-the  Virgin  Mary  and  various  Saints.    After 
prayers  and  an  evening  hymn  to  the  Virgin, 
we  retired  for  the  night.    Helen  and  myself 
have  a  room  together,  with  separate  beds.  *  * 
"  At  six  in  the  morning  we  rise  and  proceed 
to  the  chapel  to  hear  Mass.     It  is  under  the 
same  roof  with  the  convent,  but  not  the  one 
we  go  to  for  evening  prayers;   it  is  much 

*  It  is  the  young  ladies'  chapel.— Cbmj?.     . 


20 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


larger,  and  has  three  altars.  The  paintings 
there  are  some  of  them  very  large  and  beauti- 
ful, and  they  have  also  a  very  fine  organ, 
which  is  played  by  one  of  the  nuns.  After 
Mass  we  go  to  breakfast,  and  then  to  study 
until  eleven ;  then  catechism  until  twelve, 
dinner  and  recreation  until  one,  and  study 
until  three ;  recreation  from  three  to  four, 
then  study,  and  a  lecture  until  six  ;  then  tea 
and  recreation  amtil  eight.  We  enjoy  our- 
selves now  as  we  did  when  we  first  came  ;  in- 
deed, every  day  I  enjoy  myself  more  and 
more.  *  *  * 

"  I  will  now  tell  you  what  studies  I  am  pur- 
suing. Monday  I  have  French  and  Arith- 
metic ;  Tuesday,  Rhetoric,  Philosophy  and 
Dictionary ;  Wednesday,  French  and  Arith- 
metic. Thursday  we  do  not  study,  but  mend 
our  clothes  and  embroider.  I  am  going  to 
commence  embroidering  a  piano-stool  Thurs- 
day, and  Helen  a  piece  to  frame.  Friday  I 
recite  in  History,  Geography,  Botany  and 
Parsing.  Saturday  is  for  writing  composi- 
tions. Every  month  the  literary  societies 
meet ;  they  are'fthe  'young  .ladies  that  write 


THE  YOUNG   C0NVERT8. 


SI 


compositions  on  a  given  subject,  and  read 
them  before  priests,  the  nuns,  and  any  persons 
they  may  see  fit  to  invite  to  come  in.    Sister 

G has  given  me  an  invitation  to  write  an 

address  to  St.  Joseph's  Society  asking  admis- 
sion to  it.  You  may  know  that  I  rather  dis- 
like to  do  it ;  but  I  shall,  for  it  must  be  of 
much  benefit  to  the  young  ladies  to, be  mem- 
bers of  the  Society.  Every  month  the  good 
and  bad  marks  are  read,  and*  those  that  behave 
themselves  well  enough  are  put  on  the  table 
of  honor  at  the  end  of  the  year  ;  that  is,  they 
have  their  names  put  into  a  gilt  frame  and 
hung  up  in  the  parlor  ;  but  I  rather  think 
it  would  be  vain  for  me  to  aspire  to  that 
honor,  though  perseverance  may  do  it. 
*  *  *  Give  ray  love  to  father.  After  he 
gets  home  from  Washington  you  must  write 
to  me  about  the  inauguration."  *  *  *  * 

Through  some  fault  in  the  distributing 
oflSces,  their  letters  were  delayed  in  reaching 
home,  and  their  mother  wrote  by  a  gentleman 
of  Montreal,  in  great  anxiety  to  know  why 
she  did  not  hear  from  them.  Debbie  replied 
under  date  of  March  11:  "I  have  no  doubt- 


n  THE  YOUNO  CONVKKTI. 

that  my  letters  left  tG^  convent,  and  that  all 
that  have  come  to  the  convent  for  me  I  have 
had.  I  think  the  trouble  is  somewhere  else, 
for  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  that  my  let- 
ters have  met  with  any  impediment  in  the  con- 
vent.  The  young  ladies  tell  me  that  they 
never  have  had  any  trouble  with  theirs,  and 
more  than  that,  I  have  too  high  an  opinion  of 
the  nuns  to  think  they  would  stop  a  letter 
going  home,  and  much  less  tell  mo  that  the 
letteca  went,  when  they  did  not.  I  am  very 
contented,  and  you  need  not  give  yourself  any 
uneasiness  about  us.  The  nuns  are  very  kind, 
and  are  altogether  uliferent  from  what  I 
thought  they  were ;  they  seem  very  happy, 
and  enjoy  themselves  quite  as  well  as  any  one 
in  the  world  could,  and  better,  perhaps. 
Helen  says  that  she  is  perfectly  contented, 
and  that  you  need  not  be  in  the  least  uneasy 
about  her.  I  am  getting  along  very  w^U  in 
my  studies,  and  am  ver,  ".veil  pleased  wU?i ,  » 
music  teacher." 

{  On  the  twenty-fifth  of  the  same  month,  she 
wry  tea  :  "  I  was  happy  to  hear  that  you  had 
rece^   'd  my  Jetter?,  which  were  probably  do- 

S  5    >f^ 


TBB  YOUNU   CONVEBTJ. 


S8 


tainod  in  some  office,  for  you  might  find  in 

them  much  more  than  I  could  lomember  to 

tell  again.    I  am  still  happy  in  my  home ; 

t^  I' .3  13  nothing  to  prevent  our  being  happy, 

At  .1  is  the  pleasure  of  our  dear  "  Tan  tea"* 

to  see  us  ei\joy  ourselves ;  yes  they  seek  our 

happiness  as  much  as  they  do  our  improve- 

.Qunt    I  wish  you  could  see  the  nuns ;  you 

would  be  an  ardent  admirer  of  them  if  you 

only  knew  what  lives  they  lead.    /  wUl  say 

plairdyf  that  we  see  but  few  with  us  that 

would  give  up  all  for  the  love  of  God,  and  live 

the  life  of  a  nun.    The  world  occupies  too 

much  of  their  attention  and  love  to  forsake 

it ;  but  what  does  a  nun  do  ?    To  be  sure,  she 

loves  her  home  and  friends,  but  she  sacrifices 

aU  for  God  ;  they  will  meet 'their  reward  in 

Heaven.    You  have  no  idea  of  them !    Their 

devotion  to  their  religion,  the  gentle  spirit 

they  evince  in  every  action,  their  love  of 

prayer,  and  their  perfect  charity,  are  not  to  be 

witnessed  in  eyery-day  life,  I  assure  you.    Do 

not  think  I  am  going  into  ecstacies  about  the 

•  French  for  "Aunts,"  by  which  appellation  the  pupils 
of  that  Inot'Uitioa  address  the  nuns. — OotnpUer. 


24 


TPE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


nuns,  and  shall  follow  in  their  footsteps  at 
some  future  day.  No  ;  I  am  not  so  sober  yet 
as  that.  I  do  not  think  I  could  do  as  they  do. 
I  only  think  that  they  are  Christians  in  every 
sense  of  the  ivord,  and  any  one  who  knows 
them  must  form  the  same  opinion  in  a  very 
short  time.  You  will  excuse  me  for  taking  so 
much  of  my  letter  for  my  "  Tantes  ;"  I  only 
want  you  to  see  them,  and  I  will  assure  you 
that,  your  mind  will  change.  I  am  getting 
along  in  Music  very  well,  and  I  think  I  have 
an  excellent  teacher.  My  teacher  in  drawing 
would  not  allow  me  to  proceed  in  monochro^ 
matic,  until  I  had  taken  lessons  in  penciling  ; 
so  I  commenced,  and  she  says  I  get  along. re- 
markably well,  and  shall  do  a  large  piece  in 
monochromatic  to  take  home  in  July.  French 
I  am  not  very  fond  of;  but  they  talk  it  so 
much  here  that  I  cannot  fail  to  learn  it ;  my 
teacher  tells  me  that  if  I  apply  myself,  I  shall 
learn  it  easily  enough.  Helen's  studies  are 
Musfc,  French,  History,  Philosophy,  Grammar 
and  Arithmetic.  I  think  she  is  perfectly  con- 
tented and  will  remain  so.  I  have  had  letters 
from  all  my  friends  since  I  came  here,  and  you 


.^•^„. 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTJ. 


25 


may  be  sure  I  find  it  a  great  pleasure  to  have 
so  many  correspondents  while  in  a  convent. 
How  did  the  inauguration  pass  off  ?  If  father 
has  come  home,  write  and  tell  me  the  events 
that  occurred ;  give  my  love  to  father,  and 
tell  him  I  shall  write  to  him  soon.  Every  let- 
ter is  seen  by  ma  Tante  N ;  but  I  do  not 

care,  as  I  do  not  write  or  receive  anything, 
but  what  I  am  willing  she  should  read.  *  *" 
During  the  first /ew  months  of  her  convent 
life,  Debbie  was,  though  'j^erfectly  polite  in 
her  deportment  towards  all,  distant  and  re- 
served also,  especially  with  the  nuns — declin- 
ing to  enter  into  conversation  with  them,  or 
to  form  familiar  acquaintance  with  any  of  her 
young  companions,  who,  while  they  admiJ^d 
the  charms  of  her  person  and  manners,  and  re- 
spected the  abilities  which  rendered  their  gift- 
ed young  rival  conspicuous  in  the  competi- 
tions of  the  class-rooms,  were  more  captivated 
with  the  winning  gayety  and  artless  frankness 
of  her  sister.    Time  wore  rather  heavilyaway 
with  her  for  the  first  month  ;  though  not  at 
all  home-sick,  her  spirit  did  not  harmonize 
with  anything  around  her,  and  she  sougjht  rc- 


,» 


f- 


'  *■ 


^f: 


m 


26 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


* 


;  ^i 


. 


lief  from  its  weariness  by  most  diligeat  appli- 
cation to  study,  and  intellectual  exercises. 
She  complained  that  so  much  attention  was 
bestowed,  as  it  seemed  to  her  very  unnecessa- 
rily, upon  religion,  (the  season  being  that  of 
Lent,)  and  that  she  could  not  turn  her  eyes  in 
any  direction    without    seeing    some  object 
which  suggested  thoughts  of  Eternity.    To 
the  weekly  instructions  in  the  class-room — 
given  by  the  Sisters  in  explanation  of  the 
truths  of  Divine  Revelation,  and  always  con- 
ducted colloquially,  that  the  pupils  may  offer 
such  remarks  or  ask  such  questions  as  they  de- 
sire— she  was,  however,  a  deeply  interested 
and  intelligent  listener,  though  she  seldom 
ventured  any  remarks  herself^  upon  the  sub- 
jects under  discussion.    The  solemn  services 
of  Lent,  the  moving  meditations,  the  earnest 
exhortations    to    repentance    and    the    soul- 
searching  examinations  of  conscience,  which 
always  form  a  part  of  the  daily  chapel  exer- 
cises of  that  penitential  season  in  a  convent, 
were  not  lost  upon  her,  although  she  was  not 
willing  to  acknowledge  her  first  favorable  im- 
pressions even  to  herself,  or  to  manifest  them 


'■^ 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


27 


by  yielding  any  outward  tokens  of  respect  id 
the  rites  which  had  awakened  them,  beyond 
the  mere  external  conformity  which  was  ex- 
acted from  all  tliQ  pupils — Protestants  as  well 
as  Catholics  being  required  to  attend  services 
in  the  chapel,  though  allowed  to  use  their  own 
books  of  devotion  or  Bibles  during  the  time,  if 
they  wished.  In  this  conformity,  as  in  the 
most  attentive  and  strict  compliance  with  all 
the  regulations  of  the  institution,  she  was  so 
exemplary  as  to  be  regarded,  even  within  the 
first  month  after  her  entrance,  as  a  pattern  of 
excellence  in  those  respects,  both  by  the  teach- 
ers  and  pupils. 

During  Holy  Week,  she  was  more  depressed 
than  ever,  as  most  of  the  scholars  were  en- 
gaged in  the  absorbing  duties  of  the  season, 
out  of  study  hours,  to  the  great  abridgment, 
if  not  entire  cessation  of  their  ordinary  recre- 
ations. On  Holy  Thursday,  March  24,  when 
her  young  companions  went  to  the  chapel  to 
oflfer  their  adorations  to  our  Divine  Redeemer 
before  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  on  the  day  upon 
which  we  commemorate  His  institution  of  that 
sublime  memorial  of  His  dying  love,  she  wan- 


\ 


28 


THE  TOVKG  CONYERTS. 


'dered  about  quite  lonely,  and  at  length  seeing 
her  faTorite  teacher,  towards  whom  she  was 
beginning  to  manifest  some  affection,  (though 
she  carefully  abstained  in  the  presence  of  her 
companions  from  showing  any  regard  to  one 
teacher  more  than  another,)  and  in  whose 
tender  and  faithful  heart  she  quietly  confided 
all  her  little  trials  and  difficulties,  she  com- 
plained to  her  of  the  oppressive  sense  of  lone- 
liness which  was  weighing  upon  her  spirits. 
The  good  Sister  advised  her  to  get  a  book 
from  the  library  for  her  amusement ;  seeing 
one  lying  on  her  table,  she  asked  if  she  might 
take  that.  The  Sister  smilingly  assented, 
thinking,  as  it  was  the  "  Rule  of  Faith,''  that 
she  would  hardly  find  much  in  its  contents 
which  would  prove  attractive  or  interesting 
to  her  young  mind.  Debbie,  however,  took  it 
away  with  her.  It  was  one  of  the  many  re- 
markable circumstances  by  which  the  hand  of 
God  guided  this  singularly  favored  soul,  that, 
in  its  peculiar  state  at  that  juncture,  this  book 
proved  to  be  the  best  one  wliich  could  have 
been  selected  for  her.  To  her  careful  persual 
of  it,  during  the  silence  and  quiet  of  that  holy 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


29 


season,  we  may  safely  ascribe  the  subsequent 
clearness  and  firmness  of  her  conceptions  of 
Catholic  principles,  both  in  theory  and  prac- 
tice. She  was  herself  grateful  for  the  benefit 
she  derived  from  it,  and  ever  held  works  of 
that  description,  (dry  and  interesting  as  they 
would  seem  to  most  young  minds,)  in  much 
higher  esteem  than  those  of  a  lighter  and 
merely  amusing  character. 

If  our  young  people  could  be  persuaded  to 
cultivate  a  similar  taste,  how  greatly  would  it 
increase  their  happiness^  and  usefulness,  and 
diminish  the  evils  which  now  prevail  to  such 
an  alarming  extent  in  young  society  I  The 
next  day  after  the  occurrence  i  last  recorded 
being  Good  Friday,  the  chapel  was  arrayed  ia 
its  mourning  drapery,  in  preparation  for  the 
solemn  and  affecting  services  of  the  day. 
Debbie  begged  permission  to  go  with  the  sis- 
ter to  see  it  before  those  services  commenced, 
which  was  accorded.  She  was  deeply  moved 
by  the  sorrowful  aspect  it  presented.  The 
young  ladies  took  no  breakfast,  but  a  small 
piece  of  bread  and  a  glass  of  water.  The 
sister  having  forgotten  to  order  butter  for  the 


M- 


'^:mj 


30 


THB   TOUMO   C0NVEKT8. 


: 


Protestant  pupils,  did  so  as  soon  as  she  no- 
ticed the  omission,  but  observed  that  Debbie 
refused  to  take  any.  She  told  the  Sister  she 
did  not  know  what  she  should  do  with  herself 
during  the  long  services  in  the  chapel.  "  Did . 
our  Divine  Redeemer  not  die  for  vou  as  well 
as  for  others  f"  asked  the  sister.  "  Yes,  ma 
Xante,  I  suppose  He  did."  "  Well,  can  you 
not  return  thanks  to  Him  for  His  infinite  mer- 
cies exhibited  in  the  great  sacrifice  on  Mount 
Calvary,  and  bow  down  in  humble  sorrow  for 
your  sins,  which  made  that  sacrifice  necessary, 
meditating  deeply  upon  those  momentous 
subjects  at  tins  time,  solemnly  set  apart  for 
their  commemoration,  for  thid  one  day  at 
least ;  after  all  that  He  has  done  and  suffered 
for  you  ?"  She  was  so  impressed  by  the  sug- 
gestions of  the  good  Sister,  that  she  pass^  a 
great  part  of  the  day  in  the  young  ladies' 
chapel,  and  in  tears.  That  she  might  not  at- 
tract the  attention  of  her  sister  and  compan- 
ions, she  would  go  out  occasionally  among 
them,  and  passing  through  the  various  groups 
in  different  rooms,  that  they  might  say,  (if  she 
was  inquired  for,)  that  8h§  had  just  been 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


81 


there,  return  to  her  chosen  place  m  an  obscure 
corner  of  the  chapel,  to  reflect  upon  her  sins 
and  the  great  expiation  offered  for  them,  and 
to  mourn  over  them  in  deep  contrition.  Sev- 
eral of  the  young  ladies  saw  her  there  at  dif- 
ferent times  during  the  day,  and  told  the 
teacher  mentioned  above,  that  Debbie  Barlow 
was  kneeling  in  the  chapel  and  weeping  sadly ; 
they  were  told  not  to  speak  of  it,  or  appear 
to  notice  it.  She  always  dated  her  conversion 
from  that  day.  It  was  then  she  was  first  led 
by  God^s  blessing  upon  a  word  "  spoken  in 
season,"  to  see  the  "  exceeding  sinfulpess,"  as 
she  expressed  it,  of  her  whole  life  thus  far, 
and  her  need  of  the  Divine  grace.  Fervently 
did  she  pray,  as  the  hours  of  that  mournful  but 
blessed  Good  Friday  wore  on,  that  the  same 
Holy  Spirit  which  had  now  illuminated  her 
soul  with  a  new  light,  and  inspired  it  with 
new  desires,  would  perfect  the  work.  ^  He  had 
thus  begun,  by  "  guiding  it  into  all  truth,"  and 
"abiding  with  her  foreyer,"  to  be  her  Com- 
forter and  her  Protector  in  this  life,  and  her 
exceeding  great  reward  in  eternity. 
Early  in  April  she  wrote  the  following  let- 


i0: 


88 


THE  VOUNO   CONVERTS. 


ter  to  her  mother — the  date  is  not  given : 
"  My  Dear  Mother  :  Your  fetter  was  re- 
ceived some  days  since,  and  I  should  have 
answered  it  ere  this  had  I  not  been  so  slow  at 
writing,  for  there  has  Iain  a  letter  in  my 
drawer  half  finished  for  the  last  few  days.  I 
cannot  imagine,  mother,  why  you  should  so 
often  regret  sending  us  here.  I  have  told  you. 
repeatedly  that  I  was  very  happy  here,  and , 
that  I  could  not  be  happier  elsewhere.  You 
are  a&&ured  that  the  advantages  for  obtaining 
an  excellent  education  are  to  be  found  here, 
and  that  the  religious  feelings  of  the  young 
ladies  are  not  intruded  upon  by  the  Catholics. 
I  will  tell  you  again  that  nothing  has  been 
said  to  me  either  by  my  teachers  or  my  friends 
unless  I  asked  them  some  questions  in  rela- 
tion to  their  faith,  which  they  of  course  an- 
swered. Helen  is  in  ecstacies  to  think  you 
are  coming  so  soon,  but  you  know  that  I  am 
not  generally  so  much  excited  by  good  news 
as  she  is,  therefore  I  try  to  make  her  think 
sometimes  that  you  will  not  come,  for  she  * 
would  be  so  much  disappointed  if  you  should 
not.    T  am  in  hopes  to  see  you  the  first  of 


;-.-':^>:-..^:. 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


33 


May,  but  even  if  you  do  not  comer  it  will  not 
be  long  before  we  see  you,  for  school  closes 
the  15th  of  July.  *  ♦  *  Helen  is  well,  and 
scndff  her  love.  Give  my  love  to  grandmother^ 
to  all  of  my  friends,  attd  to  father  and  the 
little  girls.  Write  soon  and  often  to  your 
affectionate  daughter,  Debbie." 

Soon  after  the  foregoing  letter  was  written^ 
she  discovered  that  one  of  her  young^friends, 
who  was  very  pious  and  particularly  attached 
to  her  (and  who  is  now,  as  we  may  hiimbly 
hope,  rejoicing  with  her  in  a  better  world,  she 
having  departed  this  life  some  months  pre- 
viously to  Debbie),  was  making  a  novena,  or 
nine  days'  prayer,  to  obtain,  through  the  pray- 
ers of  St  Joseph  united  with  her  own,  some 
special  spiritual  favor  at  the  hands  of  God,, 
and  was  convinced  that  the  object  of  it  was 
her  own  conversion.  Having  importuned  the 
young  lady  in  vain  >  to  reveal  it,  she  made 
some  light  remarks  bordering  upon  contempt, 
in  relation  to  such  prayers,  which  wounded 
the  feelings  of  her  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
dressed. A  few  days  after,  when  they  had 
entered  the  class-room  in  the  morning,  her 


34 


THE  Y^UNO  CONVERTS. 


'  ■-.-'** 


thoHghts  reverting  to  the  impropriety  of  those 
remarks  and  the  grief  they  had  cauised  her 
friend,  she  tore  a  fly-leaf  from  her  class-book, 
and  wrote  with  a  pencil  upon  it,  so  hastily 
that  it  was  almost  illegible,  the  following  ex- 
pressions :  "  My  Dear  Katie,  you  know  that 
on  Sunday  last  I  guessed  what  the  object  of 
your  novena  to  St.  Joseph  was,  although  I 
almost  knew  what  it  was  before.  And  you 
cannot  fail  to  remember  how  lightly  I  spoke 
of  your  prayers  for  the  intercession  of  those 
holy  souls,  who  were  the  chosen  persons  of 
our  Father  in  Heaven  to  protect  lila  only 
Son,  our  dear  S'&viour.  Dear  Kate,  they  must 
have  hurt  your  heart  too  much  at  the  time  to 
forget  them  so  soon.  Will  you  be  surprised 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  meant  very  little  what 
I  said,  and  will  you  be  more  surprised  when 
I  add  that,  at  heart,  I  am  already  a  Catholic  I 
Yes,  Kate  I  I  trust  your  novena  has  reached 
the  Heavenly  Throne,  and  that  its  object  has 
been  attained  on  earth.  There  has  lain  on 
my  heart  a  Joad — ^yes  I  in  my  gayest  hours 
you  might  have  seen,  if  you  cast  a  look  on 
my  face,  a  troubled  expression,  one  of  anxiety, 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


96 


nnd  what  caused  it  ?  The  conviction  that  I 
ought  to  be  a  Catholic  &nd  would  not.^  Last 
night  I  thought  I  could  endure  it  no  longer  ; 
my  heart  vtm  willing,  and  I  did  seek  for  ad- 
vice from  one  of  the  nuns.  I  have  not  read 
to  convince  myself,  nor  have  I  prayed  until 
quite  lately,  but  others  have  done  the  latter 
for  me,  which  I  will  ever  remember.  I  must 
some  time  be  a  Catholic !  I  can  be  nothing 
else.  Even  if  I  read  only  my  Bible  I  must 
believe  truths  of  that  Church.  *  ♦  *  Yes, 
Kate,  believe  me,  I  am  a  Catholic,  and  pray 
for  your  affectionate  Debbie." 

The  same  day  she  wrote  the  above,  she 
asked  the  teacher  whom  she  loved  best,  as  the 
friend  whose  gentle  and  loving  admonitions 
had  led  her  to  seek  the  blessings  which  had 
descended  like  heavenly  dews  upon  her  soul, 
and  filled  it  with  unspeakable  joy,  to  give  her 
a  modal.  The  Sister  told  her  she  would  give 
her  one  if  she  would  promise  to  wear  it,  which 
she  did.  That  medal  she  never  put  aside ;  it 
was  laid  with  her  fair  and  precious  form  in  the 
gravcjJ^he  often  asked  the  Sister  to  whom 
allusion  has  been,  and  will  be,  frequently 


8G 


THK   YOU  NO   CON'VKRTS. 


- 


mado  in  the  course  of  this  little  work,  for  ox- 
planations  of  the  doctrines  and  rites  of  the 
Catholic  religion.  Her  questions  were  evaded 
under  one  pretext  and  another,  as  it  was  a  vio- 
lation of  their  rule  for  a  teacher  to  speak  of 
religion  to  a  Protestant  pupil.  When  she  was 
determined  not  to  be  put  o£f  thus,  they  were 
answered  as  briefly  as  possible,  and  under  pro- 
test, as  it  were,  on  account  of  the  rule,  the 
Sister  telling  her  she  would  rather  she  would 
not  ask  them,  advising  her  also  to  meditate 
for  herself  upon  the  great  truths  of  religion, 
and  to  pray  fervently  for  light  from  Heaven  to 
guide  her  soul.  Her  frequent  expressions 
were,  that  she  read  only  her  Bible,  but  she 

•  found  confirmation  of  some  Catholic  doctrine 
or  practice  upon  every  page  of.  it,  and  that 
many  passages  which  mean  nothing  to  Protest- 
ants, were  full  of  significance  when  placed 

*  in  the  light  of  the  Catholic  definition  of  them. 
He  who  was  Truth  itself  has  said  of  His  own, 
"  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them ;  do  men 
gather  grapes  of  thorns,  or  Jigs  of  thistles  ?" 

And  where  can  we  find  a  more  encouraging 
illustration  of  the  potency  of  prayer,  pious 


i 


TIIK    VOUNO    CONVERTS. 


37 


examples  and   'loly   i)rocci>t8,   than  in   these 
first  tokens  of  the  future  conversion  of  our 
interesting  young  friend  to  the  true  faith? 
When  wo  consider  Jho  searching  scrutiny  she 
exercised  in  observing  the  lives  and  conversa- 
tions of  those  around  her,  without  discovering 
anything  in  their  blameless  tenor  which  was 
contrary/  to  the  very  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  or 
would  justify  the  accusations  she  had  been  ac- 
customed to  hear  brought  against  them  ;  when 
wo  think  of  her  emotions  upon  discovering 
the  object  of  the  novena  which  had  been  as- 
cending like  incense   before  the  Throne  of 
GracC;  from  the  altar  of  a  loving  and  fervent 
young  heart  for  her  eternal  welfare  ;  and  of 
the  few  words  spoken  by  the  pious  nun,  which, 
like  seed  sown  on  good  soil  and  moistened  by 
the  dews  of  lieavenly  grace,  were  destined  to 
bring  forth  fruits  for  eternity,  it  should  surely 
animate  us  all,  both  young  and  old,  to  ri 
newed  fervoryin  prayer,  and  diligence  in  the 
practice  of  every  duty  inculcated  by  our  holy 
religion,  that  we  may  thus  let  our  "Jjight  so 
shine  before  men,  that  they,  seeing  our  good 


M. 


88 


THB  YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


works,  may  glorify  our  Father  which  is  in 
Heaven !"  _  ■ 

'  Before  the  close  of  the  month  of  April  she 
had  won  for  her  name  a  place  upon  the  "  Table 
of  Honor,"  with  those  of  thirteen  others  whose 
high  merit  for  progi*ess  in  their  studies,  and 
perfect  decorum  of  deportment  alone,  secured 
that  distinction  for  them.  Very  few  indeed 
are  so  successful  as  to  attain  it  within  their 
first  year  as  pupils  1  The  last  of  April  she 
was  elected  by  the  school  as  one  of  the  two 
maids  of  honor  to  the  May  Queen,  which  offices 
were  held  during  the  remainder  of  the  year. 
This  election  marked  not  only  her  place  upon 
the  "  Table  of  Honor,"  as  the  candidates  are 
chosen  from  its  list,  but  also  the  high  estima- 
tion in  which  she  was  held  by  her  young  com- 
panions, the  choice  having  been  almost  unani- 
mous. Speaking  of  if  in  a  letter  to  her  mo- 
ther a  few  days  after,  she  says  :  "  I  wrote  you 

yesterday  by  B ,  but  it  never  entered  my 

head  to  tell  you  that  I  have  the  great  distinc- 
tion of  being  one  of  the  May  Queen's  maids 
of  honor.    Perhaps  it  was  from  humility  that 


!' 


THE    YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


3d 


I  deferred  telling  you  until  my  teachers  told 
me  to,  for  you  are  well  aware  that  I  have  a 
good  share  of  that.  But  I  must  enter  into  the 
subject  of  my  letter,  for  I  have  but  a  few  miu- 
utes,  as  this  must  go  to-night."  That  subject 
was  ia  relation  to  the  white  dress  necessary 
for  the  occasion,  as  they  had  nbt  yet  received 
their  summer  costumes.  The  letter  she  there 
alludes  to  is,  I  (suppose,  the  following,  written 
a  few  days  previous  to  the  ^ate  of  that  one : 

*  *  *  "Your  letter,  containing dollars, 

was  received  some  time  since,  and  should  have 
been  answered  before  this ;  but  time  passes  so 
swiftly  tliat  days  and  weeks  slip  by  unheeded, 
and  I  forget  that  it  is  time  I  should  answer 
my  letters ;  and,  besides,  every  hour  in  the 
day  is  adapted  to  some  particular  study  or 
amusement,  and  we  hardly  know  how  or 
where  it  goes.  After  your  letter  arrived,  I 
purchased  everything  we  needed,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  the  things  we  have  at  home.  You 
asked  in  your  letter  if  the  bonnets  and  man- 
tillas would  do  for  us  ?  Yes,  they  will,  and 
Helen  can  wear  her  dress.  I  would  like  you 
to  bring  our  barege  dresses  and  my  black  lace 


40 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


I 


cape.  I  think  of  nothing  else  at  present.  I 
was  just  called  down,  and  received  a  letter 
from  you,  saying  that  the  illness  of  father 
would  prevent  your  coming  to  see  us  at  pre- 
sent. I  am  sorry,  but  at  the  greatest  it  will 
be  about  two  weeks  before  we  go  home.  I 
am  sorry  to  hear  that  father  is  so  unwell,  but 
hope  his  sickness  will  pass  off  without  any 
serious  effects.  How  is  grandmother  now? 
Tell  he:'  that  I  hope  to  see  her  well  enough  to 
come  down  to  our  house  often,  while  I  am  at 
home.  Give  my  love  to  her  and  all  my 
friends,  and  tell  them  that  they  need  not  ex- 
pect me  home  from  home-sickness  ;  for  as  sum- 
mer advances,  I  find  the  convent  pleasanter 
than  in  winter,  and  as  I  was  very  happy 
through  that  season,  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  dur 
ing  the  summer  months.  I  am  very  well,  and 
Helen  is  getting  so,  she  looks  like  a  very 
healthy  girl.*  *  ^" 

When  they  were  preparing  for  the  corona- 
tion of  the  May  Queen,  she  went  with  the 
companion  who  had  made  the  novena  for  her, 
to  get  a  piece  of  carpet  from  the  sanctuary  of 
the  young  ladies'  chapel,  upon  the  altar  of 


THE  YOUNG  CONVEhW. 


41 


which  the  Blessed  Sacrament  was  also  kept. 
When  she  was  within  the  sanctuary  and  in 
front  of  the  Tabernacle,  never  hnving  been  so 
near  it  before,  an  indescribable  feeling  of  awe 
came  over  her  just  as  she  stooped  to  take  up 
the  carpet,  and  raising  her  heart  towards  it 
she  breathed  within  herself,  and  with  humble 
simplicity  and  sincerity,  this  aspiration :  "  My 
Divine  Lord  Jesus,  if  Thou  art,  as  the  Catho- 
lics believe,  really  present  in  that  Tabernacle, 
I  adore  Thee  with  all  the  powers  of  my  soul  1" 
After  saying  this  in  her  own  mind,  the  full  as 
Burance  of  the  truth  of  that  sublime  mystery 
which  was  destined  to  be  from  that  time  as  an 
anchor  to  her  soul,  sure  and  firm,  stole  like  a 
flood  of  light  over  her  spirit,  with  such  over- 
whelming power  that  she  was  lost  to  all  sense 
of  everything  around  her,  for  the  few  mo- 
meets  which  followed  this,  her  first  act  of  ado- 
ration before  our  Lord  in  the  Blessed  ^ucha 
rlst ;  when  her  companions,  having  spoken  to 
her  several  times,  (in  a  whisper,  of  course,  for 
none  may  speak  aloud  in  that  Presence,) 
touched  her  upon  her  shoulder,  and,  arousing 
her  from  the  joyful  contemplation,  hurried  her 


42 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


away  to  the  scene  of  their  preparations.  This 
little  incident  was  recorded  in  a  small  memo- 
randum-book, which  she  carried  about  with 
her,  and  in  which  she  noted  down  every  event 
of  eacli  day.  To  her  great  chagrin  she  lost 
it,  but  it  was  afterwards  found  and  preserved, 
by  a  singular  and  apparently  accidental  cir- 
cumstance. 

The  letter  of  which  the  following  is  a  por- 
tion, was  written  on  the  15th  of  May.  *  * 

"  Mr.  ;6 n  called  to  see  us  last  week.    He 

said  he  had  seen  father  a  short  time  before, 
and  told  him  he  would  come  and  see  us.  He 
seemed  to  be  somewhat  surprised  at  my  think- 
ing so  much  of  the  convent,  and  had  a  good 
deal  to  say  about  Catholics,  etc.  He  saw,  on 
entering  the  parlor,  some  paintings  and  images 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin  and  saints,  and  after 
looking  at  them  for  some  time,  he  exclaimed, 

*  What  superstition  t  what  iikkfry  I'  *  What 
is  it  ?'  said  I.  '  Why  tWfJ^ummery  worship- 
ing of  saints,  images,  etc.  ;  don't  you  think 
so?'  said  he,  addressing  me.     *No,'  said  I, 

*  you  are  very  much  mistaken  ;  it  is  neither 
idolatry  nor  superstition  ;  for  to  begin  with 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


4a 


they  do  not  worship  them — it  is  only  honor  or 
reverence  they  give  to  them  ;  but  this  is  not 
the  first  time  I  have  heard  that  Catholics  did 
this,  and  Catholics  did  that,  so  I  do  not  find 
it  strange.  All  I  know  is,  that  they  are  verif 
dif event  from  lohat  I  heard  theytvereJ  He 
said  lie  thought  we  were  kept  pretty  well  by 
our  looks,  especially  Helen.  Cora  and  Sarah 
passed  through  Montreal  about  two  weeks 
ago  ;  they  stopped  to  see  us,  but  did  not  stay 
but  a  few  minutes.  How  is  Cora's  brother  ? 
She  said  she  hardly  thought  he  would  be  alive 
when  she  got  home.  *  *  " 

Debbie  has  been  described  to  me  bf  iier 
teachers  as  possessing  at  that  time  a  rai'^icom-  ^ 
bination  of  sprightliness  and  serenity,  whic  i 
imparted  a  peculiar  charm  to  her  character, 
and  to  her  manners  a  "  nameless  grace."  She 
diflfered  in  many  respects  from  most  girls  of 
her  age,  and  manifested  none  of  that  affection 
for  some  particular  nun  which  they  are  apt  to 
show  by  choosing  favorites  among  them,  One 
evening  the  young  ladies  were  each  naming 
her  favorite  nun,  and  expatiating  upon  the 
good  qualities  for  which  she  admired  that  fa- 


44 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


vorite,  enumerating  and  reciting  these  in  a 
sort  of  chant.  Debbie  remained  a  silent  lis- 
tener, when  one  of  them  exclaimed  :  "  Well, 
Miss  Barlow,  you  have  said  nothing  ;  who  is 
your  chosen  favorite  ?"  I  love  them  all  1"  sho 
replied,  in  her  tranquil  manner,  but  with  deep 
feeling.  "  Oh,  what  a  cold,  indifferent  person 
you  are  I"  they  exclaimed  ;  "  we  do  not  believe 
you  really  care  for  any  one  I"  "  Perhaps,"  sho 
said,  "  if  you  could  see  my  heart  you  would 
think  quite  differently."  Her  perfect  habits 
in  every  respect  as  a  pupil  seemed  to  result 
from  an  innate  sense  of  propriety,  which  gov- 
erned all  her  movements.  Every  duty  ap- 
peared to  be  performed  without  an  effort. 
Her  sweet  and  engaging  modesty,  her  lovely 
conduct  and  easy  politeness  towards  all, 
seemed  to  flow  spontaneously  from  her  well- 
regulated  heart.  These  excellences  eqst  her 
no  effort,  indeed,  at  the  time,  but  they  were 
the  result  of  the  exercise  on  her  part  of  con- 
stant and  thorough  sdf-diad'pline.  She  real- 
ized and  proved  the  truth  of  that  maxim  of 
the  glorious  St.  Thomas  ^  Kempis,  that  "  a 
watch  over  the  senses  is  the  foundation  of 


THE   YOUNO    CONVERTS. 


45 


purity,  the  discipline  of  peace,  and  the  mirror 
of  devotion." 

It  is  really  lamentable  that  so  few  of  our 
young  people  have  the  courage  to  exercise 
tliat  vigilance,  which  would  contribute  so 
greatly  to  the  augmentaLon  and  establishment 
of  their  prosperity,  temporal  and  spirituaK  In 
the  regular  routine  of  school  life  in  a  convent^ 
while  there  are  but  few  stirring  events  or  va- 
ried  incidents  to  busy  the  pen  of  the  narrator 
or  interest  the  general  reader,  there  is  still  by 
no  means  any  lack  of  interesting  and  even  ex- 
citing variety  to  the  pupils.  Every  week  is 
enlivened  by  some  affectionate  device  on  the 
part  of  their  teachers  for  their  amusement, 
with  which  they  are  often  taken  by  surprise, 
as  it  were,  to  enhance  the  pleasure  and  to 
promote  the  object .  for.  which  they  are  ex- 
pressly designed,  by  breaking  the  tranquil 
round  that  might  otherwise  become  monoto- 
nous. Thus,  to  the  pupils,  after  the  first  irk- 
someness  of  its  discipline  and  requirements  is 
past,  tjme  glides  imperceptibly  and  pleasantly 
away,  while  habits  of  perfect  order  in  all 
their  studies,  occupations  and  recreations,  of 


46 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


inestimable  value  to  them  in  after-life,  are  as 
imperceptibly  acquired  and  permanently  fixed. 

In  this  manner  did  it  pass  with  our  young 
friend,  when  she  liad  become  habituated  to 
that  routine,  and  she  always  recurred  to  those 
montljs  which  were  most  free  from  any  occur- 
rences to  mark  the  flight  of  days  and  weeks, 
as  quite  the  happiest  of  her  life.  When  the 
time  for  the  annual  examination  and  vacation 
was  approaching,  she  had  become  so  much  at- 
tachedito  her  "  convent  home,"  that  she  began 
to  be  oppressed  at  times  with  the  fear  that  she 
would  not  be  permitted  to  return  to  it  at  the 
close  of  the  vacation.  She  was  determined, 
howbyer,  not  to  think  of  a  lasting  separation, 
which  would  be  so  full  of  grief  for  her,  as 
among  the  probabilities  of  her  future.  Under 
the  pressure  of  these  emotions,  she  wrote  the 
following  as  an  interchange  with  some  of  the 
dearest  of  her  young  friends  ana  class-mates^ 
who  also  oflfered  corresponding  written  expres- 
sions of  their  sentiments  and  feelings  as  the 
time  for  parting  drew  near : 

"  Six  months  I — I  can  hardly  realize  that  so 
long  a  time  has  passed  since  I  came  to  the 


THE   VOUNO   CONVF    "8. 


4T 


.convent;  it  seema  rather  a  fow  happy  days 
with  little  or  nothing  to  obscure  their  bright- 
ness.   For  what  are  the  troubles  of  our  school 
days  ?    Nothing.    They  pass  away  with  the 
evening  sun,  leaving  behind  no  trace  of  sor- 
row upon  the  heart.    And  here  in  our  peace- 
ful home,  where  everything  breathes  of  naught 
but  unity  and  love,  can  trouble  mar  the  joys 
of  our  young  hearts  ?    No ! — and  now  that  I 
leave  my  second  home  for  a  few  short  weeks, 
I  would  fain  express  my  admiration  of  its  pre- 
cepts, and  my  love  and  gratitude  to  my  teach- 
ers.   But  what  pen  can  portray  the  feelings  of 
a  truly  grateful  heart?    Ah !  it  would  require 
one  far  more  able  than  mine.     I  could  almost 
throw  it  aside  and  exclaim,  words  cannot  ex- 
press them  1    Each  day  I  have  seen  more  to 
admire,  more  to  love — each  day  found  some 
new  example  of   the  devotedness  of  those 
under  whose  care  we  are  placed,  some  new 
mark  of  their  tender  solicitude  for  our  wel- 
fare.   Here  a  word  of  advice,  there  of  en- 
couragement, each  tending  to  smooth  the  little 
impediments  we  chanced  to  meet,  and  urging 
us  onward  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  at  the 


■■Hi.: . 


48 


THE    YOrXfl    CONVEllTS. 


same  time  filling  the  soul  with  the  deepest 
gratitude  to  those  wliom  we  may  justly  deem 
our  truest  friends.  And  now  as  we  are  leav- 
ing, beloved  companions,  let  the  words  of  ad- 
monition we  have  here  received  be  ever  before 
us ;  some  are  bidding  a  last  farewell,  but^l 
have  before  mo  the  bright  prospect  of  relum- 
ing to  the  spot  where  so  many  happy  hours 
have  been  spent,  and  the  recollections  of 
which  memory  will  ever  retain." 

When  her  parents  came  to  attend  tlie  exam- 
ination her  worst  fears  were  well  nigh  con- 
firmed, and  she  saw  with  the  deepest  sorrow 
that  she  would  probably  be  called  to  endure 
a  final  separation  from  all  to  wliich  she  had 
become  so  strongly  attached.  Her  emotions 
upon  leaving  the  convent  were  so  painful  that, 
three  years  later,  when  she  was  with  her  be- 
loved teacher  in  the  convent  of  St.  Eustache, 
she  entered  upon  the  fly-leaf  of  the  book  in 
which  she  kept  her  diary  there  :  "  I  came  to 
the  convent,  the  first  time, on  theOth of  Febru- 
ary, 1853,  and  left  it  the  15th  of  July,  tlie 
same  year.  These  two  days  were  the  most 
unhappy  days  of  my  life,  but  from  different 


THE   YOUNO   CONVERTS 


49 


causes.  The  first,  because  I  was  unwilling  to 
remain  in  the  convent ;  the  second,  because  I 
had  to  leave  it."  How  fully  did  her  experi- 
ence here  recorded  prove  both  what  manner 
of  spirit  was  hers,  in  her  readiness  to  disctcrd 
prejudice  and  distrust  where  she  saw  the  in- 
justice of  them,  and  the  truth  of  that  saying 
of  her  favorite,  St.  Thomas  :  "  Blessed  is  the 
simple  and  the  just  in  whom  there  is  no  guile : 
for  God  is  with  him  in  all  his  works,  and 
guiding  hb  feet  into  the  right  path  f  and, 
*'  He  that  changeth  his  former  opinion  for  a 
better,  breaketh  not  the  word  of  truth !" 

When  our  young  friend  returned  to  her 
home,  and  was  again  among  the  friends  of  her 
childhood,  they  all  expressed  their  entire  satis- 
faction with  her  remarkable  improvement, 
both  in  mind  and  person,  during  so  short  a 
fipace  of  time.  I  cannot  better  describe  her 
personal  appearance  at  that  period,  than  by 
giving  the  words  of  Cardinal  Wiseman,  in 
his  description  of  the  youthful  St.  Agnes, 
whose  name  was  afterwards  given  to  our  be- 
loved Debbie  in  baptism.  "In  her  counte- 
nance might  be  seen  united  the  simplicity  of 


I 


50 


TUB   YOUXa   CONVERTS. 


childhood,  with  the  intelligenco  of  a  raaturor 
age.  There  not  merely  dwelt  in  her  eyes  that 
dove-like  innocence  which  the  sacred  poet 
describesL  (Cant.  1st,  Hth),  but  often  there 
beamed  from  them  rather  an  intensity  of  pure 
affection  as  though  they  were  looking  beyond 
all  surrounding  object'^,  and  rusted  upon  Onis, 
unseen  byall  else,  but  to  her  really  present, 
and  exquisitely  dear.  Her  forehead  was  the 
very  seat  of  candor,  open  and  bright  with  un- 
disguised truthfulness  ;  a  kindly  smile  played 
about  the  lips,  and  the  fresh,  youthful  features 
varied  their  sensitive  expression  with  guileless 
earnestness,  passing  rapidly  from  one  feeling 
to  the  other,  as  her  warm  and  tender  heart 
received  it." 

Soon  after  she  reached  home,  the  depressing 
conviction  that  she  should  return  uo  more  as 
a  pupil  to  her  "  dear  convent  home,'*'  settled 
heavily  upon  her,  causing  sensations  of  "  in- 
expressible regret."  The  alarm  of  her  de- 
voted parents — perfectly  kind  and  indulgent 
in  all  other  respects — was  so  great,  upon  dis- 
covering the  course  which  her  thoughts  and 
inclinations  were  taking  in  religious  matters,-' 


TUB    YOUiSU    CONVERTS. 


51 


tliat  they  even  forbad©  her  keeping  up  any 
correspondence  with  her  beloved  friends  and 
teachers.  Her  favorite  one  among  these  (who 
was  now  removed  to  the  Mission  Convent  at 
Yamachiche,  where  she  remained  until  trans- 
ferred from  there  to  St.  Eustache,)  being 
wholly  unconscious  of  the  turn  matters  had 
taken,  awaited  for  a  long  time  the  arrival  of 
the  promised  letter  from  her  dear  child,  when 
her  fears  being  awakened  lest  ill  health  or 
some  other  accident  occasioned  her  silence, 
she  wrote  to  inquire  the  reason  why  she  had 
failed  to  fulfill  the  promise  made  at  parting. 
The  following  is  an  p^'ti act  from  Debbie's 
reply  to  that  letter  : 

"  Fairfield,  Sept.  18,  1853.  *  *  You  think 
I  have  forgotten  jou  ;  no !  I  am  not  capable 
of  forgetting  those  I  love,  and,  so  long  as  I 
think  of  friends  and  kindred,  so  long  will  I 

remember  ma  Xante,  St. ;  but  when  thii 

heart  becomes  cold  and  indifferent,  insensible 
to  every  earthly  afltection,  when  it  ceoses  to 
think  of  friends,  then  will  you  be  forgotten, 
and  not  till  then  j  but  methinks  that  time  is 
far  distant,  far,  far  I      They  call  me  cold- 


52 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


hearted,  ungrateful,  but  those  who  say  this 
mistake  my  character  and  disposition,  allow 
me  to  say  ;  for,  far  from  being  either,  I  never 
forget  a  kindness,  and  I  am  sorry  to  add  that 
it  is  not  in  me  naturally  to  forget  an  injury ; 
I  can  forgive,  but  it  is  hard  to  f<yrgeU  Now, 
my  dear  Tante,  I  presume  you  will  say  I  am 
very  wicked,  and  that  your  'pauvre  enfant^* 
is  not  much  changed,  that  her  head  is  still  the 
same  ;  but  I  will  leave  this  for  something  more 
interesting.  My  reasons  for  not  returning 
were  numerous.  I  wished  to  go,  but  mother 
wished  me  to  remain  at  home  ;  she  thought  it 
was  so  far  away,  besides  she  thought  my  health 
would  su£fer  should  I  remain  in  a  convent,  and 
many  other  reasons.  Mj  parents  and  friends 
were  much  pleased  with  the  improvement  I 
.made  in  my  studies,  etc.,  etc.  Two  dear 
cousins  of  mine  are  going  to  Montreal  next 
week.  I  wish  you  were  going  to  be  there  to 
teach  them  French — ^you  had  so  much  patience 
teaching  your  '-pauvre  enfant.^ " 

Her  reply  to  the  second  letter  of  this  friend 
was  written  under  the  fear  that  if  she  *ix- 

•  Poor  child. 


THB   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


53 


pressed  what  she  felt,  all  correspondence  be- 
tween them  would  be  forbidden.    It  was  so 
reserved  and  constrained,  so  unlike  her  real 
feelings  in  its  tone,  that  when  she  afterwards 
happened  to  find  the  letter,  while  remaining 
for  a  year  with  her  friend  and  teacher  at  St. 
Eustache,  she  destroyed  it.    Soon  after  she  re- 
ceived the  reply  to  it,  she  went  to  St.  Albans 
to  pass  some  days  with  a  female  relative  from 
another  place,  to  whom  she  was  very  fondly 
attached,  and  who  was  then  stopping  a  few 
days  in  a  hotel  at  St.  Albans.    While  there, 
she  wrote,  under  the  sanction  of  the  relative 
mentioned,  (who  fully  reciprocated  thei  affes- 
tion  of  the  beloved  child,  and  who,  though  a 
Protestant,  thought  the  opposition  to  her  feel- 
ings had  been  carried  too  far,  and  would,  if 
continued,  defeat  its  own  object  by  securing 
the  dreaded  result,)  the  letter,  a  portion  of 
which  I  shall  here  give.    It  was  dated  "  St. 
Albans,  Dec.  23, 1853,"  and  began  with  apol- 
ogies for  the  coolness  of  her  last,  and  expla- 
nations of  the  reasons,  maniiesting  in  a  most 
affecting  manner  the  conflict  between  her  de- 
sire of  rendering  strict  obedience  to  the  re- 


ft* 


% 


64 


THE  TOUNO  C0NTBBT8. 


quii^ements  of  those  nearest  and  deaiest  to 
lier — and  whose  wishes  she  sincerely  respect* 
ed — and  the  warm  impulses  which  moved  her 
to  express  the  deep  and  abiding  affection  and 
confidence  she  entertained  towards  the  friend 
who  was,  next  to  them,  dearer  to  her  than  all 
others ;  while  she  knew  that  the  injunctions 
requiring  her  to  make  so  painful  a  sacrifice  of 
her  own  feelings  were  the  result  of  a  total 
misapprehension  of  the  real  trvih  on  the  part 
of  thosd* imposing  them,  and  continued:  "I 
have  searched  earnestly  and  with  an  unpreju- 
diced mind,  as  far  as  I  had  the  opportunity, 
the  catechisms,  records  and  writings  of  the 
Church  of  Chript — you  understand  me,  the 
Catholic — and  as  I  told  you  often,  very  often,  I 
found  much  in  it  to  admire.  I  have  not 
changed  in  that  respect.  I  came  home  with 
a  mind  very  different  from  what  it  was  pre- 
vious to  my  going  to  the  convent,  and  my 
friends  soon  discovered  it.  Not  that  I  ever 
expressed  a  wish  to  unite  with  the  Church. 
No  I  I  was  not  yet  prepared  to  judge  of  the 
other  sects  of  Christians,  and  I  felt  that  I 
must  look  for  a  while  upon  (heir  recLSonings  in 


THB  TOUNO  COMVEItro. 


5$ 


regard  to  the  matter ;  and  I  have.  I  haye 
read  and  conversed  with  many,  and  have  at 
last  decided  to  be  guided  hy  faith  and  my  ovm 
reas(m,  I  have  heard  the  Catholics  ridiculed 
and  assailed  in  every  possible  manner,  not  by 
my  own  relatives  more  than  by  others.  It 
has  seemed  to  me  that  it  would  amount  ta 
more  than  three  months  taken  together,  that 
I  have  spent  talking  with  ignorant,  supersti- 
tious^ *  ^^IfjUy  blind  and  intolerant  Protest- 
ants.  "  ''.d  not  avoid  it  One  would  come 
in, '  Well,  Debbie,  I  hear  you  are  a  Catholic,'' 
and  from  that  would  run  on  until  I  have  been 
compelled  by  my  own  conscience  and  better 
feelings  to  stand  up  in  defense,  as  far  as  I  was 
able,  of  a  religion  I  respected  and  in  many 
things  loved.  I  would  not,  and  I  will  not,  sit 
and  hear  a  person  ignorant  or  not,  so  go  on 
with  rail-road  speed  against  the  clergy  or  the 
religious  orders  of  females  in  the  Catholic 
Church ;  that  I  cannot  put  up  vnth.  At  last 
I  have  refused  to  hear  anything  in  reference 
to  the  matter  unless  they  asked  these  questions 
in  a  civil,  respectful  manner.  I  have  had  con> 
troversies  and  conversations,  etc.,  etc.,  until 


u 


e»(^ 


THE  YOUKO  CONVERTS. 


■  f 


I  am  tired  of  the  name  of  Church,  and  feel 
perfw^tly  reckless.  *  *  *  I  wiU  defend  the 
nuns^  no  matter  wliere  they  are,  and  if  the  in- 
ference they  deduce  from  this  is  that  I  am 
going  to  become  a  Catholic,  they  are  at  liberty 
to  do  so.  I  have  a  relation  whom  I  am  stop- 
ping with  now,  and  who  is  very  kind  and  con- 
siderate for  me.  She  has  just  given  me  a 
large  beautiful  gold  cross.  I  shall  value  it 
very  highly.  At  the  hotel  where  J  am  now 
stopping  there  is  a  lovely  woman  boarding, 
who  is  a  convert  from  Protestantism  to  Catho- 
licity. She  lost  her  only  daughter  last  spring, 
and  she  had  sp-^nt  some  time  in  the  Convent  of 
the  Sacred  Heart  in  New  York.  She  wishes 
jne  to  give  her  love  to  you.  She  thinks  nuns 
are  per/ecL  She  that  was  Jennie  Hall  (now 
Mrs.  Lynn,)  is  failing  very  fast ;  she  cannot 
live  but  a  short  time ;  she  told  me  she  would 
write  to  the  convent,  but  she  wa^"  not  able. 
She  is  very  hs^py,  and  seems  lo  welcome 
death  almost.'' 

Not  long  after  the  foregoing  was  written 
Debbie  and  Helen  visited  fri^ds  in  Highgate 
and  Burlington,  and  after  their  return  to  Fair- 


THE  YOUNQ   CONVERTd. 


6t 


field  thej  attended    school    there  together. 
April  23d,  1854,  Debbie  writes  from  Fair- 
field. *  *  *  "  I  am  attending  school,  and  en^ 
joying  myself  very  well.    I  often  wish  to  see 
you,  my  true  friend,  and  very  often  speak  of 
you  as  such — so  often,  that  I  am  accused  of 
thinking  of  little  else  hni  my  convent  home 
and  its  inmates.  *  *  «  "  A  little  more  than  a 
month  later  we  have  the  following  in  a  letter 
to  the  same  friend :  "  Fairfield,  Sunday  eve- 
ning, May  28,  1854.    *  *  *    It  is  a  lovely- 
night— calm  and  serene  as  a  summer  evening. 
A  cool   refreshing   shower  has  added  new 
beauties  to  nature,  and  only  a  slight  breeze, 
which  I  can  imagine  is  like  the  floating  of 
angels'  wings  around  us,  disturbs  the  air.   Yet 
afar  off  I  hear  the  murmuring  of  a  rivulet  and 
the  hum  of  children's  voices  in  their  youth- 
ful sports.    It  is  truly  an  hour  I  love.    A/ar  f 
afar  !  methinks  I  hear  the  low  chimes  of  con- 
vent bells  as  they  sound  the  hour  at  which  we 
were  wont  to  retire ;  and  imaginations  which 
are  now  vividly  cherished  by  me,  bid  my  eyes 
gaze  upon  a  scene  of  uncommon  interest — ^a 
number  of  young  girls  ascending  steps  which 


n 


bd 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


lead  to  a  little  chape!,  unassumiug  in  its  ap- 
pearance, b«t  whose  precincts  are  hallowed 
beyond  description.  They  enter  there,  and 
every  knee  is  bent,  every  head  is  bowed,  and 
all  pride,  envy,  hatred  and  jealousy  are  (or 
should  be)  buried.  *  *  ♦  A  pale  lamp  bums 
steadily  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament  of  the 
altar,  shedding  its  rays  upon  the  sacred 
walls,  and  reminding  each  soul  which  there 
present^,  itself,  of  the  bright  light  of  faith 
which  should  reign  in  our  hearts.  Prayers 
from  the  lips  of  youth,  blessed  beyond  the 
reach  of  a  doubt  by  faith,  ascend  to  the  throne 
of  the  Most  High  God.  And  the  sweet  Ves- 
per Hymn  to  the  Blessed  Mother  of  Christ 
rises  upon  the  evening  silence,  with  oft-repeat- 
ed petitions  for  her  intercession.  And  the 
'  slow,  measured  steps  of  those  children,  as  they 
leave  this  place  of  prayer,  show  with  what 
reverence  they  regard  the  sacred  spot.  Yes  I 
my  dear  Tante,  I  often,  very  often,  let  my  im- 
agination rove  to  those  scenes.  Do  you,  can 
you,  think  I  have  forgotten  them  ?  They  re^ 
main  in  my  heart,  sealed  in  the  casket  of  mem- 
ory, and  I  look  back  upon  those  days  as  some 


IL 


THE   YOUNG    CONVEKTS. 


59 


of  the  happiest  of  my  life.  Helen  has  been 
very  sick  with  ir-flammation  of  the  stojiach 
and  bowels.  She  never  was  so  ill  in  her  life 
before,  and  she  is  now  very  miserable.  Her 
strength  left  her  entirely,  so  much  so  that  she 
had  to  be  taken  the  same  care  of  that  a  child 
would.  I  have  besn  confined  to  the  sick  room 
so  long  that  I  have  written  no  letters  to  any 
one.  You  will  excuse  my  long  silence,  will 
you  not  ?  *  *  *  I  am  not  ungrateful ;  no,  I  am 
not  I  Accuse  me  of  anything  else,  but  not  of 
that !  I  love  the  nuns,  and  shall  ever  remem- 
ber their  kindness  to  me.  They  may  think  I 
have  forgotten  long  ere  this.  ♦  *  *  *  Some 
one  has  been  in  my  room  to-day  to  s'  Helen, 
and  you  never  heard  so  much  fuss  as  was  made 
of  me  (afterwards)  about  a  table  in  my  room 
on  which  was  a  cross,  my  two  Catholic  prayer- 
books,  my  chaplot,  a  picture  of  an  Angel 
Guc'dian,  an  image  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
a  picture  of  St.  Joseph,  and  another  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin  and  Infant  Jesus,  aU  the  pic- 
tures given  me  in  the  convent,  and  two  vases 
of  flowers  that  I  had  gathered  from  the  gar- 
den to  ornament  the  table.    My  books  wore 


■^ 


<0 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS 


examined,    ic,  etc.,  comments  made  upon  this 
And  that,  and  I  let  them  proceed.     I  told 
them  these  things  put  me  in  mind  of  the  con- 
vent, and  I  loved  to  look  at  them.    They 
thought  I  had  better  go  up  and  unite  with  the 
*  Romish  Church.^    I  told  them  I  did  not  know 
but  I  ehovHd  unite  with  the  Catholic  Church^ 
Again,  from  a  letter  dated  Fairfield,  June, 
1864, 1  extract  a  portion :  "  Oh,  ma  Tante  I  it 
is  a  happy  thought  to  think  that  I  am  cared 
for,  'grayed fov  by  you !  and  how,  in  the  silent 
loneliness  of  my  own  room,  I  look  back  upon 
the  past,  and  recai!  your  kind  look,  your  ap- 
proving glanre,  and  wish  I  could  once  more 
behold  them  t    Here,  alone  by  my  couch,  I  ask 
■God  to  bless  your  life,  to  add  new  joys  to  your 
heart,  quicken  you  by  His  Divine  Presence,  and 
receive  you  in  his  eternal  home  at  last,  where 
fimid  an  angel-band  (and  pure  as  they),  I  some- 
times imagine  I  see  you  now.    Would  that  I 
•could  think  /  should  meet  the  good  and  the 
just   there ;  should   see  their  robes  washed 
white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and  stand 
among  them  I    Heaven  seems  to  me  such  a 
Home  I  prepared  by  Him,  that  I  long  somo- 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


61 


times  to  see  its  glories  ;  but  as  I  listen  to  my 
feelings  a  voice  asks  me,  '  Are  you  prepared 
to  die  ? '  If  I  were  prepared  I  would  go  wil- 
lingly. *  *  *  Fairfield,  June  25th,  1854.  *  * 
I  think  of  you  often  and  often,  and  shall  be 
under  obligations  while  Ufe  lasts  and  perhaps 
in  eternity.  *  *  *  I  am  assailed  on  all  sides 
by  those  who  think  I  am  willing  to  become 
less  ignorant  than  I  formerly  was.  I  air  ridi- 
culed; yes,  more  than  thai  I  But  my  God 
Tcnows  I  will  not  yield,  with  His  help — His 
grace  {^  I  am  here  and  must  now  conform  to 
many  things  which  I  fain  would  not ;  but  I 
will  satisfy  them.  I  will  peruse  their  blasphe- 
mous writings,  and  if  I  can  find  anything  pure 
I  will  subtract  it  from  the  impure.  I  will  give 
them  their  due.  I  will  know  the  faith  of  all ; 
indeed,  I  do  know  much  now,  and  I  find  no- 
thing congenial  to  my  feelings  but  the  One 
True  Faith  I  To-day  I  went  to  the  Presbyte- 
rian  Church,  and  when  I  had  heard  the  ser- 
mon about  half  through,  lo  1  Popery  must  take 
a  thump  I  He  said  it  was  nothing  but  Pagan- 
ism with  another  name  I  that  the  Catholics  had 
no  light  from  Heaven  !  no  lights  of  Bevelation  I 


I  I 


G9 


TBI  YOUNG    GONVEBTg. 


that  the  heads  of  that  Church  were  among  the 
most  licentiow  of  earth  I  and,  finally,  that  on 
the  very  face  of  the  Church  were  marked  those 
words,  (which  St.  John  applied  to  Pagan  Rome) 
— I  will  not  repeat  them ;  read  for  yourself,  ma 
Tante,  the  17  th  Chapter,  6th  Terse  of  Revelar 
tions  I  I  listened;  I  grew  dizzy  and  blind  1  but 
took  my  shawl  and  walked  out  of  the  church ; 
I  was  obliged  to  sit  in  the  porch  until  I  grew 
composed,  and  then  casae  home.  Some  one 
asked  my  mother,  why  I  came  out  of  the 
church  ?  and  she  told  them^ '  Debbie  toould  not 
hear  the  Catholic  Churdi  talked  about  in  that 
way,  and  so  she  came  home.V  I  suppose  the 
whole  town  will  be  up  in  arms  about  it  I  I  do 
not  know  but  they  will  mob  me.  Hal  hal 
This  morning  in  St.  Albans,  (where  I  went  to 
attend  church,)  at  the  administration  of  the 
Blessed  Sacrament,  the  rail  around  the  chancel 
at  the  grand  altar  was  filled  with  Americans, 
who  have  been  converted  to  ihe  Catholic  faith 
within  the  last  few  years,  and  they  all  reside 
there,  with  the  exception  of  a  family  from 
Philadelphia,  and  two  or  three  from  an  adjoin^ 
ing  town." 


THE   YOUNO   00MVBBT3. 


d8 


There  is  no  farther  communication  from  her 
until  Nov.,  1854,  when  she  writes  from  Fair- 
field. *  *  *  "Your  dear  kind  letter,  ma  Tante, 
was  received  last  night,  and  I  would  fain  ex- 
press to  jou  my  thanks  for  jour  kindness  in 
writing  to  me  again.  My  reasons  for  not 
answering  your  former  one,  were  that  I  was 
forbidden  that  pleasure;  I  will  be  plain  in 
speaking  to  you,  my  friend,  (for  I  consider  you 
as  such,)  my  trials  I  believe  increase,  for  I  am 
plain  in  telling  them  that  I  shall  unite  with 
the  Church  which  I  consider  as  right.  I  have 
been  debarred  the  pleasure  of  going  to  Mass 
until  the  last  two  months,  when  I  told  them  I 
would  never  step  inside  a  Protestant  Church, 
(excuse  me,  I  mean  meeting  house,)  if  they  did 
not  allow  me  to  go ;  but  they  would  not  let 
me ;  and  I  then  sat,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  by 
my  window  and  looked  at  the  Catholic  chapel 
while  the  Blessed  Sacrifice  of  the  Mass  was 
offered  up.  Finally  they  told  me  to  go  if  I 
wished  to,  and  I  went.  After  that  the  Catho- 
lics were  ridiculed  by  my  acquaintances  more 
and  more,  and  the  next  Sunday  there  was 
Mass  they  would  not  let  me  go.    I  then  made 


64 


THE   YOUNQ   OONVEBTS 


this  agreement :  I  told  them  if  they  would  let 

me  go  to  Mass  once  a  fortnight,  that  is  as 

often  as  it  is  here,  I  would  go  to  Protestant 

meetings  the  remainder  of  the  time,  until  I 

joined  the  Church.    This  suited  pretty  well, 

and  with  a  good  deal  of  ridicule  they  allow  me 

to  go.    Last  Sunday,  the  Bishop  of  Burlington 

and  two  priests,  beside  our  priest  that  preaches 

here,  came  to  Fairfield  and  staid  until  Tuesday 

noon.   I  went  to  Mass  on  Sunday  morning.  Mr. 

McGowan,'our  priest,  came  and  spoke  to  me, 

and  asked  if  I  would  like  an  introduction  to 

the  Bishop.    I  told  him  I  would.    He  said 

after  Mass  he  would  introduce  me  to  him. 
Mother  was  with  me,  and  she  said  so  much 

against  it  after  Mr.  McGowan  left,  that  I 
would  not  stay  to  see  the  Bishop,  but  I  sent 
word  to  Father  McGowan  that  he  could  de- 
duce his  own  inference  from  my  going.  I 
formed  some  acquaintance  with  him  about  a 
year  ago,  and  he  has  heard  something  from  a 
lady  in  this  place  about  the  opposition  I  met 
with.  I  have  never  conversed  with  him  at  all. 
Monday  morning  I  went  to  two  Masses  and 
heard  a  sermon.    I  was  alone ;  our  family  did 


THI  YOUNO  COKVERTI. 


U 


not  go,  BO  I  found  my  way  to  the  restry  and 
saw  the  Bishop.    His  name  is  DeGocsbriand. 
He  told  me  he  saw  the  Sisters  of  the  Congre- 
gation a  short  time  ago,  and  that  they  spoke  of 
rae  to  him.    He  talked  with  me  some,  and  I 
like  him  very  much.    Tuesday  I  went  to  Maw 
and  heard  a  sermon.    My  God  knows  how  I 
enjoyed  mysdfl    To-day  there  is  no  Catholic 
service,  and  I  have  been  to  a  Protestant  meet- 
ing ;  ma  Tante,  it  is  a  real  penance^  I  assure 
you  I    Next  Sunday  I  long  for  ;  then  there  is 
Mass  again!  The  whole  town  are  giving  me 
up  as  one  blinded  by  errorSj  they  say.    Poor 
people  f  they  know  not  that  within  my  heart, 
amid  all  my  trials,  there  reigns  a  peace  which 
the  world  <ian  never  givef  They  know  not  that 
the  Arm  of  the  AlmigMy  sustains  me !    They 
know  not  that  my  prayers   are   constantly 
offered  up  to  the  Throne  of  the  Mos'   *ng!i 
for  their  good!    When  I  tell  them  that  my 
constant  prayer  is  to  h«»ve  my  faith  increased, 
they  tell  jne,  I  can  never  find  faith  in  the  Catho- 
lic Church/    Oh  I  then,  where  can  I  find  it  if 
not  there?  No  where/  Oh  give  me  faith^  faith 
which,  like  a  rock  afar  off  in  the  distant  seas^ 


p 


€♦ 


ee 


THE  TOUNO   CONVERTS. 


though  the  waves  and  stormj  of  life  beat  for- 
ever against  it,  shall  still  be  immovable !  I  do 
not  wish  to  murmur ;  no  1  far  from  it,  my  ti  lals 
will  not  compare  with  what  others  have  suf- 
fered, and  do  suffer,  for""  the  same ;  I  am  not 
right,  perhaps  even  co  mention  them.  If  I  am 
not,  may  Heaven  forgive  me  I  I  have,  perhaps, 
lost  the  esteem  of  some  by  my  adherence  to 
Qatholic  principles,  if  so  I  cannot  help  it.  I 
trust  that  you  always  pray  for  me.  Remember 
me  always,  for  t  would  ever  live  in  the  memo- 
ries of  those  who  led  me  to  the  truth.  I  often 
think  of  my  convent  home  ;  it  is  still  very  dear 
to  me,  brt  1  fear  I  shall  never  return  to  it  as  a 
school-girl.  I  may  visit  it.  Oh  1  how  I  long 
for  the  time  to  come  when  once  more  I  shall  be- 
hold {its  peaceful  walls!  and  if  I  live  I  shall,  for 
I  mean  to  visit  Montreal  some  time.  Give  my 
love  to  all,  and  tell  them  to  pray  for  Debbie." 
"Fairfield,  Dec.  17, 1854. — Pardon  me,  I 
pray,  for  not  answering  your  kind  letter 
nuuner.  I  should  have  done  so,  but  I  have 
not  been  very  well,  and  for  some  other  reasons, 
perhaps  too  trijling  tx)  mention.  I  was  pleased 
to  hear  from  you,  and  I  know, your  prayers 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


er 


are  ever  raised  for  me,  to  the  Throne  of  the- 
Most  High.  The  pure  truths  you  speak  in 
your  letters,  endear  them  much  to  me.  To- 
day has  proved  to  me  again,  that  my  prayerer^ 
should  be  strong  and  fervent.  I  have  been 
to  Mass,  and  oh !  how  my  soul  longed  to  join 
the  few  who  knelt  and  received  the  Body  and 
Blood  of  Jesus  Christ  I  Oh  1  the  presence  of 
Jeaus  in  the  Blessed  Sacrament  1 — how  glori- 
ous 1  how  consoling  the  thought!  Who,  w^Ao 
can  doubt  it,  ma  Tante,  if  they  knew  the  hap- 
piness of  one  who  believes  in  the  Real  Pres- 
ence how  they  would  sigh  for  that  Faith/  Do- 
you  not  think  so  ?  My  kind  friend,  you  ask 
me  if  I  wear  the  medal.  Yes,  I  do  :  and  I 
forget  not  my  Mother,  if  so  I  may  call  the^ 
Blessed  Virgin «  I  presume  I  am  sometimes- 
heedless,  and  forget  my  duty,  but  I  trust  my 
God  forgets  me  not.  How  thankful  I  should, 
be  that  He  has  given  me  the  grace  to  see  thor 
true  toay,  I  was  reading  to-night  in  my 
prayer-book,  this  passage ;  "  Where  much  i» 
given,  much  will  be  required*"  Then  how 
much  will  Almighty  God  require  of  me  I  I 
have  been  blessed  1  oh,  how  much ;  and  my 


\\ 


68 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


life  ought  to  be  spent  better  than  I  now  spend 
it.  *  *  *  I  still  attend  Mass,  when  it  is- 
celebrated  here,  though  sometimes  with  trou- 
ble, for  my  friends  oppose  me  as  much  as  ever.. 
I  try  to  follow  all  the  rules  of  the  Catholic 
faith  as  well  as  I  can,  but  here  I  have  na 
friend  to  advise  me,  none  to  consult  Vith.  and 
I  have  no  rSading-matter ;  that  is,  wo  bookf 
and  papers.  Protestants  put  plenty  of  their 
books  into  my  hands,  and  I  read  them  all.  A 
short  time  since  a  lady  visited  our  house,  who- 
is  the  wife  of  a  Presbyterian  clergyman.  In 
the  coarse  of  the  conversation,  the  *  Romish 
Church  *  was  called  up,  and  she  remarked  iii 
this  manner  :  *  Well,  I  believe  if  there  is  a. 
lottomless  pit  in  the  future  world,  the  Cathdic 
pWe«fe  will  go  there !'  *Mrs-* — '  said  I,  'it 
is  not  for  you  to  judge  where  they  will  ^0/ 
From  this  a  conversation  commenced  in  which 
she  told  me  that  Catholics  believed  their 
priests  infaUiUe;  that  for  money  they  could 
g^  their  sins  pardoned  by  a  priest  I  That  the 
Catholic  Church  had  destroyed  the  second 
commandment  of  God,  and  worshiped  images /I 
and  that  they  gave  nwre  honor  to  the  Blessed 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


6» 


Virgin  than  to  Godl  1 1  By  the  way,  she  con- 
sidered *  the  Mother  of  Christ  as  a  very  good 
sort  of  a  woman,  but  no  better  than  any  other 
Christian  I'  These  are  her  precise  words,  and 
I  could  not  convince  her  that  Cathdics  did  not 
helieve  the  first  of  her  remarks !  She  hnjew 
better  than  I  did,  of  course!  I  asked  her  if 
she  had  ever  read  any  Catholic  books.  '  No, 
and  she  never  wished  to  I'  (Of  course  I 
thought  her  particyJ'irly  vjell  qualified  to  give 
reliaUe  information  on  the  subject,  after  that 
admission.)  Among  other  things,  she  said 
that  convents  were  horrid  placeSj  and  nun9 
awful  creatures  1  I  have  told  you  this,  as  an 
example  of  my  daily  cor^absJ^    -^    ^ , 

About  two  months  after  the  date  of  thi» 
letter,  her  parents  decided  to  send  her  and 
her  sister  Helen  to  Fairfax,  a  village  a  few 
miles  from  Fairfield,  where  there  is  a  flourish- 
i  ^  institution  under  the  direction  of  the 
Baptist  sect.  They  chose  this  place,  both  ou 
account  of  its  convenience  of  access  for  them- 
selves, that  they  might  see  their  daughters 
frequently,  and  doubtless  because  they  also 
hoped  that  the  close  attention  to  study  there 


r^H >■ 


W^ 


iiri1[liilli;il[rilL*VJ'    1*1'"!' 


70 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


required,  and  an  entire  separation  from  all 
Catholic  influences  and  associations,  might 
divert  the  mind  of  Debbie  from  the  contem- 
plation^, of  religious  subjects.  Soon  after  they 
went  there,  she  wrote  to  the  same  friend  at 
Yamachiche,  to  whom  most  of  her  letters  are- 
f  ddressed :  « 

"Fairfax,  March,  1855.  *  ♦  I  thank 
you  very  much  for  the  beautiful  little  picture- 
you  sent,  ap,d  I  assure  you  I  shall  treasure  it 
with  much  care.  It  is  decidedly  lovely.  The? 
face  of  the  Infant  Jesus  is  so  sweet,  and  that 
of  our  holy  Mother.  Oh !  why  is  it  that  such 
pictures  inspire  us  with  greater  love  for  tho 
originals  ?  Do  you  know,  ma  Tante  ?  I  know 
it  is  so.  I  must  tell  you  how  much  my  pictures 
are  admired.  I  look  them  over  very  often,, 
and  I  am  often  requested  to  show  them.  I 
explain  the  design  as  well  as  I  can  to  them,, 
and  they  frequently  exclaim, '  How  beautiful  I 
how  lovely  V  I  generally  tell  them  truly  that 
this  is  only  the  commenceinent,  only  the  firs  I 
step,  o'r  one  of  the  least  of  the  beauties  of 
Catholicity.  I  am  here  in  Fairfax  attending- 
school.    I  did  intend  to  go  to  Burlington,  but 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


ri» 


I 


my  parents  preferred  to  have  me  here,  so  hero 
J  am.    No  Catholic  Church  ;  no   Catholics. 
The  school  is  large,  and  a  very  good  one,  I 
should  judge.    Most  of  the  people  of  this 
place  hate  the  Catholics  bitterly,  and  have 
^ery  strange  ideas  concerning  them.    Almost 
every  one  had  heard  before  I  came  here,  that 
I  was,  in  sentiment,  a  Roman  Catholic.    I 
£aid  nothing,  but  the  first  morning  that  I  went 
into  tlie  school  I  had  about  my  neck  my  cro88 
xind  medal.    After  I  came  away,  and  reached 
my  boarding-place,  a  young  lady  told  me  that 
she  heard  it  remarked  by  several  that  the 
eldest  Miss  Barlow  was  a  Catholic.    *  Is  it 
so  f  said  she.    *  I  believe  it  is,'  said  I,  and  no 
more  was  said.    I  suspect  I  am  an  object  of 
pity  among  them  all.    My  sentiments  are  the 
same  that  they  were  when  I  left  the  convent. 
I  find  no  Church  as  yet  whose  precepts  and 
faith  I  hve  as  I  do  the  Catholic.     I  am  sure 
that  I  have  chance  enough  to  find  the  true 
faith  if  it  is  to  be  found  amoug  the  Protestant 
churches  ;  but  I  find  it  not  there.     I  still  ii've 
the  faith  professed  in  my  convent  home.     It  is 
still  dear  to  me,  and  it  is  not  because  I  have 


''    I 


I 


It 


72 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


constant  intercourse  w  th  Catholics,  or  have 
their  books  to  reoi.  1  see  but  very  liftle  of 
<jducated,  intelligent  Catholics.  X  !iave  never 
seen  any  pricBt,  with  the  eicepticii  of  Father 
McGowan  twice,  and  the  Bishop  of  Borling- 
ton  once.  I  have  no  books  except  those  tw  o 
jt>\>  gare  v./6,  aad  one  of  them  a  young  lady 
from  Barliiy^toti  hn^  bor-jwed.  You  perceive 
I  have  not  much  to  guide  me  ;  no,  nothing  but 
the  Hrrnd  of  God  cdovje.  Oh  I  I  pray  that  I 
TBay  Dot  go  astray  from  the  path  of  right  I 
May  my  steps  be  guided  in  the  only  trve  and 
pure  religion.  Every  one  opposes  me  as  much 
as  ever.  My  father  I  care  for  most  of  aJl. 
He  worships  me,  I  know.  Every  one  says  he 
ioves  me  better  than  any  of  his  other  chil- 
<3ren.  *  *  *  *  I  am  harrasaed  to  death  by 
people  talking  against  the  Church  and  against 
me ;  but  I  do  not  care.  I  must  believe  what 
dod  has  directed  me  to.  It  is  a  hard  hill 
which  I  am  striving  to  ascend,  but  I  hope  that 
I  may  not  faint  until  the  summit  is  gained. 
Sometimes  I  think  a  strong  arm  is  throw?? 
around  me,  and  then  new  strength  is  added  k 

my  weariness,  a^     a  hand  seems  poiii'  .;g   a 

1     ■'.  M 


■'\ 


:J 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


13 


the  Cross  and  urging  me  onward.  And  often- 
timed  I  almost  imagine  that  a  sweet  voice 
whispers,  *  My  child  I  will  pray  for  thee  !'  and 
my  petition  is,  *  Sweet  Mother,  pray  for  thy 
feeble  but  trusting  child/  With  our  Hea- 
venly Father^a  care,  the  love  of  Jesiis,  and  the 
prayers  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  can  I,  oh  can  I 
wander  from  the  truth?  I  have  told  you 
plainly  my  feelings,  and  if  they  change,  you 
shall  know  it.  There  is  a  young  lady  going 
from  this  place  to  the  convent  in  Montreal  in 
about  three  weeks,  and  there  has  one  gone. 
Every  one  is  wonderfully  concerned  about 
them.    *  *  *" 

In  her  next,  written  during  the  same  month 
and  from  the  same  place,  the  following  pas- 
sages occur : 

"  Let  me  tell  you,  my  friend,  distinctly — I 
wfint  you  to  understand  me  fiiUy — I  am  a 
CatholiCj^rm  and  unyielding.  I  believe  it  is 
the  only  i^ue  Ohurcl  and  the  only  one  witK 
which  J  I.iiii  evei  unite  myself.  You  ask  me 
what  .  "intend  to  do?"  I  an  ^ssailed  by 
every  one.  In  fact^  I  do  not  have  one 
moments  peace  any  where.    My  parents  are 

7 


74 


THE  YOUXO   CONVERTS 


A 


I 


bitterly  opposed  to  the  Catholics.  *  *  * 
But  Heaven  help  me  I  will  hejirm.  *  *  *  I 
shall  be  more  a  Catholic  when  I  leave  this 
school  than  ever  before.  *  *  *  I  have  not 
told  you  much  about  the  school,  have  I  ?  I 
will  say  a  few  words  before  I  close  my  letter. 
It  is  a  Protestant  school,  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  and  we  are ,  obliged  to  attend  prayers 
and  go  to  their  church,  etc.  Last  Sunday,  I 
heard  a  sermon  which  was  2trong  against  the 
*  Jtomanists'  as  they  term  us.  The  sura  and 
amount  of  it  was,  that  the  Catholic  Church 
taught  salvation  by  works,  and  tiot  hy  faith. 
I  smiled  at  their  ignorance,  and  gave  it  no  fur- 
ther thought." 

The  next  letter  was  written  from  Fairfax  in 
April,  about  two  weeks  before  the  close  of  the 
spring  term  of  the  school.  She  doubted  whe- 
tlicr  slic  should  return  for  the  next  term, 
thougli  Helen  probably  would.  Her  mother 
was  contemplating  a  visit  to  her  fi  lends  in  the 
western  country,  and  she  might  be  needed  at 
home  during  the  absence  of  her  mother.  She 
speaks  in  the  most  moving  terms  of  her  stron^ 
desire  to  visit  Mon  i'cal  after  the  return  of  iior 


THE   YCDNO   CONVERTS. 


76 


mother,  but  did  not  dare  indalgo  the  hopo 
that  her  wish  would  be  graated,  and  adds  : 

"I  am  really  feeling  bad  enough  these  days ; 
everything  looks  dark.  My  friends  all  agiinst 
me,  and  God  alone  my  refuge!  Why,  ma 
fante!  look  at  that  last  sentence  again  I  I 
did  not  mean  to  write  it  ju9t  so.  I  ought  to 
be  satisfied  with  a  kind  friend  in  Heaven  for 
my  refuge.  You  understand  mo,  do  you  not? 
Bat  I  know  t'lat  in  becoming  a  Catholic  I 
lose  many  who  have  been  warm  friends  of 
mine.  This  I  do  not  care  for ;  I  gain  far  n.ore 
than  I  lose.  But  I, sometimes  feCt  very  sad 
that  my  parents  are  so  opposed.  It  seems 
hard.  *  *  *  I  wish  they  would  read,  but 
no,  they  will  not ;  but  they  wish  me  to,  every 
Protestant  work  that  I  can  find  ;  and  I  read 
every  thing  in  the  shape  of  argument,  that  I 
could  gQt  hold  of  against  the  Catholics,  but 
my  h^art  is  just  as  much  there  as  ever  ;  it  can 
be  no  where  dse,  '  Catholic  I  am.  Catholic  I 
must  be!'  These  are  the  words  I  addressed 
to  a  Protestant  lady  in  tuis  place,  some  time 
since.  I  ^  .  roing  to  have  9ome  books  soon. 
I  had  a  iet  ir  L  om  Caro.  G— —  a  few  weeks 


■^* 


,1*  '\ 


^m^- 


76 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


since.  She  is  in  Atui^ ,"  ai  the  convent  of  the 
Sacred  Heart.  "  "*  *  She  seemed  to  recall 
the  associations  connected  with  our  bright 
days  in  Montreal,  with  much  pleasure.  I  was 
rejoiced  to  hear  from  ma  iante,  in  ^»ion- 
treal,  that  I  had  been  received  into  the  society^ 
of  th^  Oliildrenof  Mary  at  the  Convent.  Oh, 
how  /ften  I  wish  to  be  there,  if  only  for 
one  hour,  if  not  more  1  I  have  yet  to  find  a 
place  I  love  so  well.  Every  evening  my 
thoughts  are  with  the  dear  inmates  as  they  go 
to  their  beloved  chapel,  and  btfore  Him  who 
is  there  present,  my  soul  bows  down  as  in  days 
goneby,  and  lingers  to  tell  its  sorrows  and 
its  trials  to  that  dear  Saviour." 

About  a  week  later,  she  wrote  to  another 
lady  of  the  congregation  who  was  deeply  in- 
terested in  her.  The  following  is  a  portion  of 
that  letter : 

"  Fairfax,  AprU  26,  1855.  "  ^  *  Would 
that  I  could  follow  the  example  of  our  sweet 
Mother  in  all  things  I  and  ^  promise  you  to 
imitate  her  virtues  as  far  as  .  ctji  a  )le.  I  hope 
you  will  pray  for  me  that  I  may  succeed,  in  a 
measure,  at  least.    Jennie  says  you  asked  her 


t 


THE   YOCNO   CONVERTS. 


n 


who  selected  my  books  ?  Who  selects  them  ? 
I  can  answer  very  easily — Protestants  I  The 
pnrest  works  of  Protestants^  Divines  of  all 
sorts,  are  given  me  to  read,  and  I  have  read 
them  carefully  and  candidly.  I  do  not  think 
it  would  hurt  any  of  my  Catholic  friends  to 
read  what  I  have,  for  they  are  very  harmless  ! 
I  think  I  am  more  of  a  Catholic  when  I  finish 
one  of  those  books,  than  I  was  wh«n  I  com- 
menced f  I  sometimes  think  people  do  not 
care  what  I  like  or  do  not  like.  In  this  place 
it  is  no  matter  what  is  said  to  injure  a  Ca^ho- 
He's  feelings.  They  are  of  no  consequence, 
Bnt,  thank  Heaven,  I  am  a  Catholic ;  nor 
would  I  change  my  faith  for  all  of  theirs  I" 
About  tliat  time  a  distressing  occurrence  in 
that  vicinity  caused  the  deepest  regret  to  the 
children  of  the  Church,  and  gave  its  enemies 
an  opportunity, which,  in  accord  mce  with  their 
accustomed  vigilance  and  malice,  they  did  not 
by  any  means  fail  to  improve  to  the  utmost 
by  spreading  accounts  of  the  circumstaEce 
abroad,  with  multiplied  exaggerations  and 
triumphant  sneers.  After  alluding  briefly  to 
the  circumstance,  in  a  letter  to  Yamachiche, 


tl 


78 


TUE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


and  to  the  fj^rief  and  reproach  which  the  scan* 
dal  had  brought  upon  her  innocent  spirit,  she 
says :  "  I  have  only  to  summon  up  all  my 
courage  to  endure  and  face  all  such  things.  I 
am  often  asked  the  question,  '  Do  you  not 
wish  you  had  never  gone  to  a  convent  ?  then 
you  would  never  have  been  a  Catholic'  Oh, 
ma  Tante  t  I  would  not  give  up  my  belief  in 
the  Catholic  religion  if  I  could  be  assured  of 
a  long  and  perfectly  happy  life  here  by  so 
doing !  There  is  such  peojce  to  be  found  there  I 
Oh,  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  ever  retrace 
my  steps  and  wander  farther  from  the  fold  of 
the  Good  Shepherd*  Some  call  me  an  enthvr 
siast ;  others  say  I  mubt  have  had  very  little 
stahUity  of  character  to  go  from  Protestantism 
to  Catholicity.  But  why  should  I  care  ?  If 
I  am  confident  that  our  heavenly  Father  will 
strengthen  me  in  my  course,  I  am  sure  I  ought 
to  forget  these  little  trials.  I  am  not  striving 
now  to  please  the  world,  but  a  higher  oiy'ect  is 
mine,  I  trust." 

The  justice  of  the  charges  (almost  invaria- 
bly urged  against  converts  to  the  Catholic 
faith,)  that  she  "  had  very  little  stability  of 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


to 


charaotor/'  was  soffioiontly  tested  by  her  con- 
duct We  have  yet  to  learn  the  meaning  of 
the  qnalification,  if  her  consistent,  steady 
course  of  action  from  first  to  last  was  not  one 
of  its  most  complete  illustrations.  Wo  have 
frequently  heard  it  attributed  to  persons  of  va- 
rious grades  of  intelligence  and  character,  be- 
cause they  remained  unchanged  in  their  reli- 
gious sentiments  by  the  influences  of  a  convent 
course,  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period,  (some  of 
them  for  several  consecutive  years,)  whoso 
subsequent  lives  proved  most  conclusively  that 
their  shield  against  those  influences  was  simply 
entire  indifference  to  all  religion,  and  whose 
conduct  in  other  matters  connected  with  their 
social  and  domestic  relations,  declared  as 
great  a  deficiency  in  that  sort  of  stability  as 
we  have  ever  seen  exhibited.  Contrary  to 
Debbie's  expectations,  she  returned  to  Fair- 
fax at  the  close  of  the  vacation,  for  the  sum- 
mer term,  and  the  next  letter  to  Yamacliiche, 
which  was  preserved,  was  written  from  that 
place. 

"  July,  1855.  *  *  I  think  my  parents  aro 
getting  more  resigned  to  my  being  a  Catholic, 


1^.'     ^^ 


'.J*, 


\1 


81) 


THB  TOUNO   CONVERTd. 


though  I  do  not  know  how  long  it  will  last. 
When  I  was  at  home,  they  told  me  that  if  I 
must  he  a  Catholic,  they  supposed  I  must ;  but 
they  thought  I  could  not  be  in  ily  right  mind. 
I  think  I  shall  persuade  them  to  let  me  go  to 
Montreal  when  the  year  closes,  and  then  I 
hope  to  unite  with  the  Church.  Oh,  what  a 
blessed  season  that  would  be  for  me.  But  I 
hope  against  fear  ;  and,  therefore,  will  not  an- 
ticipate too'*much  now.  I  earnestly  pray  the 
day  may  soon  arrive  when  I  shall  be  within 
that  one  fold,  whose  Shepherd  is  Christ.*  *" 
She  laid  this  letter  aside  when  she  had  written 
thus  far,  to  write  one  to  her  father,  begging  of 
him  to  permit  her  to  accompany  a  very  agree- 
able party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  had 
politely  invited  her  to  join  them,  and  who 
were  going,  the  latter  part  of  the  month,  from 
Fairfax,  Sheldon,  Highgate  and  Swanton,  to 
Montreal.  The  two>  young  ladies  whom  she 
mentioned  as  having  gone  Jo  the  convent  from 
Fairfax,  were  expected  to  return  home  with 
the  party.  After  entreating  to  be  permitted 
to  go,  she  adds  :  "  If  I  go,  I  shall  stay  at  the 
Mountain  school  most  of  the  time.    I  hn^ve 


.^- 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


81 


had  a  very  polite  invitation  from  the  nuns  to 
make  them  a  visit,  and  as  many  of  the  young 
ladies  who  are  now  there,  leave  this  fall,  I 
would  rather  go  noio  than  later.  And  now, 
father,  as  far  as  sotne  other  matters  are  con- 
cerned, you  know  what  I  would  like  to  doj 
not  because  my  friends  are  opposed  to  it,  not 
that  as  far  as  worldly  interests  are  concerned, 
I  shall  be  any  better  oflf,  neither  is  it  because 
a  proselyting  influence  has  been  thrown  around 
me  ;  this  is  not  so.  His  because  I  think  it  is 
DUTY.  But  I  will  say  no  more  ;  I  will  leave 
you  to  choose  as  you  think  best.  But  one 
word  more  I  will  say  ;  I  shall  be  no  worse 
than  I  now  am.  I  shall  be  Debbie  y  still  T 
Her  request  received  an  absolute  refusal  as  to 
all  its  features,  and  she  concludes  the  letter  to 
her  friend,  which  was  laid  aside  until  she 
should  hear  from  her  father,  thus  : 

"  My  parents  will  not  consent  to  my  going 
to  Canada,  as  I  wrote  to  you  that  I  wished  to. 
They  had  rather  have  me  go  any  other  way  ; 
but  I  do  not  wish  to  go  from  home,  again, 
until  I  am  able  to  say,  lama  Catholic.  Yes  I 
I  wish  the  world  lo  know  it.    I  have  received 


\  f 


—- .^ — .  ,   ,..„ ^_^ 


82 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


I 


some  books  from  Jennie — one,  the  '*  Imitation 
of  Christ,"  another,  the  "Trials  of  a  Mind," 
by  Dr.  Ives,  formerly  Bishop  of  the  Protestant 
Episcopal  Church,  of  North  Carolina.  I  can- 
not find  much  more  to  write  now,  unless  I 
make  mysdf  the  subject.  I  am  not  sure  it 
will  prove  a  very  interesting  one,  but  will  say 
a  few  words.  You  know  I  am  the  same  in  my 
determination  to  be  a  Catholic,  and  I  feel  that 
my  Fcdhm  in  Heaven  will  support  me  in  all 
my  difficulties.  Yes,  His  arm  is  mighty,  and 
why  need  I  fear?  I  am  sure  the  Mother  of 
our  Divine  Redeemer  will  ever  intercede  for 
me,  if  I  look  to  her  with  confidence,  I  know  I 
am  each  day  getting  more  courageous.,  and 
strength  from  on  High  is  given  me.  I  hope 
the  day  will  ere  long  arrive,  when  I  can  say 
that  I  am  a  Catholic  ;  when  the  vJorJd  can 
assail  me  if  it  chooses,  and  I  can  fly  to  that 
Church,  to  Her  sacraments,  for  consolation  in 
my  trials  and  afflictions.  Sometimes  I  think 
I  cannot  wait ;  but  I  am  smx  the  day  is  not 
far  distant  when  I  shall  be  received  into  the 
bosom  of  t'lat  Church,  whose  teachings  are 
purity  itself  J^  . 


"^t 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


83 


During  the  same  week,  in  which  the  conclu- 
ding part  of  the  foregoing  letter  was  written, 
she  wrote  the  one  which  contains  what  fol- 
lows, to  a  member  of  the  Congregation, 
in  Montreal.  It  was  in  reply  to  the  one  con- 
veying the  invitation  allude^  to  in  her  letter, 
to  her  father  : 

"  My  Deab  Tante  :  You  know  not  how  often 
I  have  thought  of  my  convent  home,  within  the 
last  few  weeks,  and  my  heart  has  yearned  to 
be  with  you  there,  but  the  sad  thought  that  I 
could  notj  has  prevented  my  writing.  Do  not 
think  that  Debbie  has  forgotten  her  kind  and 
trm  friends.  No,  she  has  not.  The  intelli- 
gence I  have  to  convey,  in  this  letter,  is  what 
I  disliked  to  write.  I  begin  to  ihink,  ma 
Tante,  that  I  am  going  to  be  denied  the  plea- 
sure of  ever  seeing  the  convent  again.  I  can 
obtain  no  consent  from  ray  parents  to  i*eturn 
there,  and  what  cnn  I  do  ?  I  thought  I  should 
make  my  first  communion  where  I  first  learned 
to  love  the  Catholic  religion,  but  it  seems  to 
be  ordered  otherwise.  I  think  I  have  waited 
long  enough,  for  the  consent  of  my  friends  to 
my  union  with  the  Holy  Catholic  Church."  *  * 


i 


84 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


^ 


Cc  urage  1  oh,  trembling  soul  I  fear  not  i 
*'  Abide  in  truth  and  in  charity,  and  thus  shalt 
thou  be  pleasing  to  God,  to  angels,  and  to 
good  men."  Oh,  that  thine  eyes  could  be 
opened  this  day,  as  were  those  of  the  prophet's 
servant  of  old,  to  see  even  now  in  this  thy 
hour  of  greatest  danger ;  while  thou  art  en- 
compassed and  beleaguered  by  the  hostile 
powers  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil, 
joined  ar  d  arrayed  in  all  their  strength  against 
thee ;  that  "  they  who  are /or  thee,"  are  more, 
far  more,  than  "  they  who  are  against  thee !" 
that  the  Holy  Virgin  Mother,  in  whose  aid 
thou  hast  so  confidently  trusted,  has  obtained 
of  the  Majesty  of  Heaven,  that  "  horses  and 
chariots  of  fire"  should  be  placed  between 
thee  and  the  enemies  of  thy  salvation ;  that 
the  wings  of  the  most  potent  of  Heaven's  high 
Hosts  should  be  spread  over  and  around  thee, 
to  hide  tbee  beneath  their  shadow,  to  enfold 
thee  in  th^ir  protecting  embrace.  Courage, 
child  of  Heaven !  for  prayers  are  floating  up- 
ward like  clotids  to  the  Throne  of  God,  from 
innumcrflble  eouIs  for  thee!  from  many  pre- 
cious hearts  of  His  chosen  servants,  that  are 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS 


85 


the  consecrated  altars  of   His    love ;   from 
many  others  which  are,  with  their  overflowing 
piety,  the  sole  earthly  endowments  of  their 
possessors,  the  poor,  the  despised,  and  the  hid- 
den of  this  world,  rich  in  the  wealth  of  Hea- 
ven.   How  many  hoary-headed  saints  among 
these,  are  bending  their  trembling  knees  before 
the  Throne  of  Grace,  and  lifting  up  their 
hands    to    Heaven's    high    courts    for    thee, 
through  each  hour  of  the  day,  yea,  and  even 
"preventing    the  night  watches"  also,  with 
their  untiring  supplications  I    What  hosts  of 
thy  invisible  spiritual  enemies,  0  daughter  of 
Faith  1  are  even  now  fettered  and  crippled — 
raging  in  impotent  fury  against  the  strong 
links  of  the  lioly  Rosary,  which  have  subdued 
and  bound  them.  How  many  of  them  are  retir- 
ing even  into  deeper,  darker  depths  of  despair, 
than  was  their  portion  before,  "  struck  with  a 
sudden  blindness  "  while  in  pursuit  of  thee ; 
and    the    flaming    swords    they  had    raised 
against  thee,  turned  powerless  away,  by  the 
interposing  and  embracing  folds  of  the  iioly 
Scapular,  which    its  faithful  disciples    have 
drawn  as  a  curtain  around  thee!     Courage 


'   ■ 

I 


i.^' 


86 


THE   YOUXO    CONVERTS. 


then,  and  let  thy  motto  still  be  "  Excelsior !'' 
until  thou  hast  attained  the  "  summit "  of  that 
"  hard  hill "  which  thou  art  striving  with  such 
steadfast  trust  and  perseverance  to  ascend  I 

After  the  close  of  the  summer  term  of  the 
school  on  the  26th  of  July,  she  went  to  visit 
friends  in  Burlington  antf^erri^urgh.  She 
wrote  to  her  friends  at  Yamachiche  : 

"Ferbisburgh,  Aug.  27th,  1855,  Tuesday 
Morning.  *  *  You  perceive  I  have  left 
Fairfax,  and  am  at  this  place,  making  my 
friends  a  short  visit.  I  have  been  in  Burling- 
ton for  the  past  two  weeks,  and  am  to  return 
there  again,  Thursday  morning.  I  am  not 
going  to  remain  in  Fairfax  any  longer,  but 
shall  be  at  home  for  some  weeks,  and  I  do  not 
know  where  I  shall  go  next.  How  I  wish 
Montreal  was  my  destination !  You  know  I 
thought  of  going  to  Montreal  this  summer  ;  it 
WM  a  trial,  I  assure  you,  to  give  it  up,  and  I 
do  not  know  now,  when  I  shall  go.  I  think  I 
make  some  progress  in  getting  the  good  will  of 
ray  friends  on  the  side  of  Catholic  faith  and 
principles  ;  and  though  they  are  still  much  op* 
posed,  yet  I  can  see  there  is  a  change,  and  I  do 


'*?.a.;s«w3sKta!s**  -xtv  a-^jgw-jiTr^j-jsuaw 


^^ssa&KR? 


THE   YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


8t 


trust  the  light  of  that  day  is  slowly  but  surely 
dawning,  when  they  will  willingly  say, '  You 
are  an  the  side  of  TruthJ  *  *  I  do  not  feel 
as  if  the  trials  I  have  passed  through  are  all 
for  naught — ^no  I  oh,  no  I  There  are  others 
within  the  circle  of  my  dear  friends  who  toiU 
yet  follow  in  the  way  of  Truth  I  Even  look  at 
my  sisters.  Their  sympathies  are  all  awakened 
for  me,  and  the  course  my  relatives  have  taken 
has  made  them  feel  as  though  'Debbie'  was 
right,  or  she  would  have  given  up  before  this  I 
Two  of  my  sisters,  though  quite  young,  one 
being  fourteen  and  the  other  eleven,  are  really 
giving  some  uneasiness,  because  they  are  not 
willing  to  go  to  Protestant  meeting,  when 
there  xS  Mass.  Many  times  I  have  started  for 
Mass,  in  the  morning,  and  left  them  both  weep- 
ing, because  they  were  not  allowed  to  go  with 
me.  I  feel,  sometimes,  a  responsibility  resting 
upon  me,  which  I  need  much  Divine  strength 
to  assist  me  in  being  accountable  for,  in  a 
right  manner.  I  trust  there  is  nothing  that 
will  prevent  me  from  doing  my  duty,  as  far  as 
I  am  able.  Every  day,  almost,  I  find  some 
new  friends  ;  some  who  can  feel  what  my  true 


>»^-''.: 


■] 


SB 


THE   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


II 


situation  ia.  Last  week,  or  rather  two  weeks 
ago,  when  on  my  way  to  Burlington,  I  got  as  • 
far  as  St.  Alban's,  and  supposed  I  must  remain 
all  day  at  the  hotel.  Father  was  with  me,  and 
what  was  my  astonishment,  after  having  been 
there  an  hour,  to  have  him  come  into  the  par- 
lor, and  introduce  a  gentleman  to  me,  as  Mr. 
Hoyt,  in  whom  I  recognized  a  person  of  whom 
I  had  heard,  who  was  formerly  a  Protestant 
clergyman,  but  who  had  the  happiness  of  be- 
coming a  Catholic,  some  years  ago.  He 
invited  me  to  spend  the  day  at  his  house,  and 
I  did  so.  I  found  his  wife  one  of  the  most 
lovely  ladies  I  ever  met,  and  they  have  a  beau- 
tiful family  of  children.  They  are  trite  Catho- 
lics, and  in  them  I  feel  as  if  I  had  found  true 
friends,  and  those  near  home.  They  have 
become  Catholics,  after  having  been  for  years 
in  the  Protestant  communion,  and  they  know 
what  a  person  has  to  pass  through  in  changing 
their  rdigious  creed" 

Her  next  letter  was  addressed  to  the  same 
friend,  dated  at  Fairfield,  Nov.  20,  1855. 
After  great  surprise  that  "ma  Tante"  had 
not    received  any  letters    since   August,  as 


THUS  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


89 


she  had  written  re i  ilarly  to  her,  she  adds : 
"  When  your  letter  came  to  Fairfield,  I  was 
in  St.  Alban's.  I  went  there  to  do  some  shop- 
ping, and  remained  two  days.  While  there  I 
made  arrangements  to  be  receivbvA  into  the 
Church,  and  one  week  from  nexl  Saturday 
will,  I  ho^  3,  witness  ray  baptism,  and  the  next 
day  I  f  ope  to  make  my  first  Cumraunion.  I 
have  mentioned  to  my  parents  my  intention, 
and  tliey  neither  consented  nor  forbade.  But, 
thanks  be  to  God,  it  is  not  necessary  that  I 
should  wait  longer,  and  when  I  '^•^ixt  write  to 
you,  I  hope  to  tell  you  the  glad  news.  We 
have  two  excellent  priests  with  us  now  ;  there- 
fore I  can  find  some  one  to  advi  .  and  direct 
me.  I  wrote  to  ma  Tante — Li;  Montreal, 
last  week,  and  I  told  her  I  should  probably 
never  write  to  the  convent  again,  until  I  could 
tell  them  that  I  was  a  Catholic  in  every  sense  of 
the  word.  I  was  weary  of  writing  that  the 
day  was  yet  to  come.  I  longed  tu  s&y  it  had 
been  my  happiness  to  be  received  as  one  of  the 
childrenof  God's  Church  on  earth.  **  Prr-y 
for  mo  that  I  may  worthily  receive  the  sacra 
ments  of  oui'  holy  religion — that  I  may  have  a 


m 


if 


90 


THE   YOUNQ    CONVERTS. 


firm  faith  and  a  deep  love  of  God  implanted 
in  my  heart  1  1  will  write  again  as  soon  as  I 
can  tell  you  the  good  news."  The  following 
needs  no  comment.  Each  soul  that  is  so 
favored  as  to  be  numbered  among  "  the  few  " 
who  have  been  permitted  to  pass  through  the 
"  strait  gate "  which  opens  upon  the  "  nar- 
row way  that  leadeth  unto  life,"  will  respond 
from  its  profoundest  abysses  to  every  expres- 
sion it  contains : 

"Fairfield,  Dec.  Uh,  1855. — How  can  I 
commence  this  letter?  How  should  I  com- 
mence it  /  How,  but  in  asking  you  to  join 
with  mc  in  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  Al- 
mighty God.  Yes,  my  Jirat  requ^t  of  you 
:aiust  be,  that  you  will  say  with  me,  *  Thanhs 
be  to  God  I'  My  desire  has  at  length  been 
gratified,  and  I  have  been  received  into  the 
Church  of  Christ.  What  can  I  write  to  you  ? 
My  heart  is  so  ftdl  of  happinese  that  I  cannot 
write.  What  an  empty  word  Happiness  has 
ever  been  to  me.  Now  that  I  realize  what  it 
is  to  be  trtily  happy,  I  can  look  back  upon  the 
past  and  see  that  it  has  been  almost  a  Uank. 
The  hour  of  my  haptism  !     Can  I  forget  it  ? 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


91 


No  ;  it  is  now  before  me.  The  memory  of  it 
rushes  full  and  fresh  over  my  soul,  evon  as  I 
sit  here  and  write.  It  is  now  p"  but  the  in- 
ward feeling  of  my  heart  at  the  i  t  when 
those  regenerating  waters  de^c  upon  my 
head,  cannot  pass  away  I  I  muh  ^  keep 
in  grateful  remembrance,  those  sacred  mo- 
ments. I  pray  that  they  may  ever  be  before 
me  to  cause  me  to  remember  my  great  obliga- 
tions to  my  God  I  He  has  been  so  merciful  to 
me,  in  bringing  me  to  the  Fold  wherein  alone 
solvation  can  be  found ;  what  must  be  my  in- 
gratitude if  I  abuse  those  mercies— trample 
upon  those  graces!  Pray  earnestly  for  me, 
my  kind  friend,  as  I  am  sure  you  ever  have, 
that  I  may  resist  the  temptations  of  this 
world.  Our  Heavenly  Father  has  brought 
one  more  wandering:  lamb  within  the  sacred 
inclosure  of  His  Church,  and  unworthy  as 
that  one  is,  He  has  deigned  to  notice  her. 
Yes  ;  He  heard  my  request,  He  has  granted 
ray  petitions,  and  rescuing  me  from  the  im- 
pending danger,  has  '  set  my  feet  upon  a  rock. 
He  has  opened  the  door  of  His  Church,  and 
asked    my  soul  to   enter    therein.    He  has 


^f^!^-' 


>^  V"^   1^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


t 


1.0 


I.I 


11.25 


te&IM    12.5 
■i^  liii   12.2 

S   1^    |2.0 

114    116 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  U5S0 

(716)872-4503 


'^ 


w 


92 


IBB  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


brought  me  within  the  reach  of  His  sacra* 
ments— has  conferred  upon  me  the  title  of 
Child  cf  God  /    Oh  blessed  thought  I    How 
can  I  repay  ?    In  no  way  I    I  can  only  offer 
my  penitential  prayers  and  tears.    kaAwhai 
shall  I  say  of  the  interoeadon  of  the  Blessed 
i^other  of  our  Redeemer?    Oh,  my  sweet 
Mother  1  my  greatest  advocate  and  refuge! 
my  .guiding  star!  vjoM  that  I  could  tliank 
thee  more !    Take  my  offering,  which,  it  is 
true,  is  but  little,  and  continue  to  guide  and 
guard  thy  child.    Would  that  aU  might  learn 
to  love  thee — 'thou  that  art  higher  than  any 
other  created  intelligence  in  the  Heavenly 
Courts !     WoiHd  that  aJU  might  acknowledge 
thee  to  be  the  Immaculate  Mother  of  God. 
Pray  for  me,  and  be  my  Mother  still  1    Teach 
me  the  virtues  which  shone  so  conspicuously  in 
thy  life,  and  at  last  may  I  see  thee  in  all  thy 
glory  above,  where  we  will  join  in  praising 
Him  who  saved  thee  from  sin,  and  has  rescued 
my  soul  from  the  consequences  of  sin,  eter- 
nally and  without  ceasing !  *  *  *  I  have  not 
yet  made  my  first  Communion.    I  preferred  to 
wait  until  the  Feast  of  the  Immaculate 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


9a 


'ception  of  our  Holy  Mother,  on  the  8th  of 
this  -month.  I  was  baptized  on  Friday  last, 
(the  thirtieth  of  November,)  at  St.  Albans  ;  I 
took  the  name  of  Mary  Agnes  in  baptism.  I 
have  about  the  same  trials  at  homo  as  ever  } 
perhaps  I  may  say,  more.  But  what  are 
these  ?  I  can  look  upon  them  now  with  little 
pain,  and  even  consider  it  a  happiness  to  bear 
them.  I  request  your  prayers  for  the  conver- 
sion of  my  dear  friends  at  home.  You  are  the 
first  one  to  whom  I  have  communicated  the 
good  news.  You  were  my  first  Director,  as  it 
were,  and  you  were  not  forgotten  in  my 
prayers  at  the  hour  of  my  baptism." 

Rest  thee  now,  gentle  dove!  thou  hast 
gained  the  summit  at  last,  and  may  safely  fold 
thy  wearied  wings  for  a  time  in  calm  repose, 
beneath  the  shadow  of  the  olive  branch,  which 
thou  hast  at  length  safely  deposited  upon  the 
altars  of  the  ark  of  thy  rest  I  Even  the 
perennial  freshness  of  thy  blameless  and  tri- 
umphant example — the  only  trophy  thy  best 
search  could  find  on  the  wide  deserts  of  a 
world'ileluged  by  sin,  which  was  worthy  to  be 
offered — as  a  token  of  Hope  for  those  with- 


\\ 


■ 


94 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


i> 


out,  and  a  beacon  of  Victory  to  those  within 
—  before  the  tabernacles  of  tlie  Lord  of 
Hosts! 

In  the  attempt  to  convey  a  faithful  portrait- 
ure (by  the  aid  of  her  own  pen,)  of  the  char- 
acter and  trials  of  our  precious  and  lamented 
young  friend,  I  have  now  reached  a  point 
where  it  is  proper  that  I  should  pause,  to 
remark  that  I  would  by  no  means  wish  to  be 
underst^pd  as  desiring  to  represent  her  as  free 
from  human  weakness,  or  above  the  reach  of 
human  emotions.  Far  from  it ! — for  it  is  a 
daughter  of  Eve,  and  not  an  angel,  of  whom 
I  am  writing!  She  was  warmly  affectionate 
in  her  nature,  and  therefore  keenly  sensitive 
to  coldness,  v^strangement  and  unkindness,  in 
those  she  loved.  She  had  less  pride  indeed 
'-— thanks  to  the  Gracious  Hand  that  presv.rved 
her  more  free  from  the  stain  of  that  hideous 
sin  by  which  the  brightest  of  Heaven's  hosts 
forfeited  their  high  estate — ^than  almost  any 
other  person  I  have  ever  known  ;  but  she  was 
endowed  by  nature  with  her  full  share  of  that 
attribute  which,  when  sul^ected  to  proper  re- 
strictions, forms  the  crowning  beauty  of  wo- 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


95 


man's  character,  and,  without  those  restric- 
tions, its  greatest  weakness — love  of  approba- 
tion ;  thejrefore  her  first  experiences  of  odium 
and  contempt  settled  like  iron  into  her  soul. 
Though  determined  to  act  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  dictates  of  lier  conscience,  and  to 
follow  the  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the 
path  clearly  marked  out  for  her,  by  embracing 
the  despised  religion  of  the  meek  and  lowly 
Jesus  at  all  hazards,  and  regardless  of  tem- 
poral consequences ;  yet  is  it  strange  when 
she  found  herself— from  the  period  of  the 
events  recorded  in  the  last  chapter — ^standing, 
humanly  speaking,  alone,  separated  from  some 
of  her  dearest  relatives  (by  differences  which 
had  arisen  between  them  and  hor  parents  as 
to  the  propriety  of  carrying  opposition  to  her 
feelings  and  wishes  in  religious  matters,vSO  far 
as  they  had  felt  themselves  in  duty  bound  to 
carry  it),  and  neglected  and  condemned  by 
most  of  her  former  associates,  that  her  grieved 
and  trembling  spirit  sought  a  solace  for  tem- 
poral ills,  by  hiding  itself  too  entirely  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  eternal  treasures  it  had 
gained,  to  admit  of  her  devoting  the  time  and 


96 


THB  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


h§:: 


:  i 


■[> 


atteDtion  to  the  due  discharge  of  those  daily 
domestic  duties,  which  she  owed  to  the  kind- 
ness of  her  devoted  parents  ?  For  her  ne- 
glect of  some  of  the  least  important  of  these 
duties,  even  when  the  lassitude  of  disease  was 
beginning  to  press  heavily  upon  her,  she  has 
been  cruelly  censured  by  those  whose  closest 
scrutiny  could  detect  nothing  more  serious  to 
condemn  in  her  than  some  such  trivial  faults 
and  Missions  ;  and  who  eagerly  blamed 
qualities  in  her  which — ^had  they  been  dis- 
covered in  the  character  of  a  Protestant 
young  lady — would  have  called  forth  their 
highest  encomiums.  Though  her  spirit  was 
ever  strong  and  unfaltering  in  its  willingness 
to  sacrifice  aU  for  God,  yet  was  the  flesh  some- 
times weak.  When  she  knew  that  the  finger 
of  scorn  was  pointed  at  her,  that  the  en- 
venomed tongue  of  slander  was  busy  in  pois- 
oning the  very  atmosphere  around  her  with 
its  merciless  and  lying  devices,  and  when  she 
felt  the  sharp  arrows  of  ridicule  piercing  her 
on  every  hand,  was  it  strange  that,  wrung 
with  the  stinging  consciousness  of  all  this,  her 
wounded  and  a£frighted  soul  nestled,  like  a 


THB  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


»t 


bird  unddr  the  wing  of  its  mother,  more  and 
more  closely  into  the  bosom  of  the  sweet 
Mother  of  Sorrows  and  of  Compassion,  where 
alone  it  could  find  repose  ? — That  Mother 
who  had  felt  every  pang  which  rent   her 
tender  heart,  and  could  therefore  sympathize 
with  every  grief  I — she  who,  for  the  benefit  of 
her  adopted  children,  had  walked,  with  more 
than  mortal  mother^B  lore  and  firmness,  side 
by  side  with  her  own  Divine  Son,  in  the  path  ' 
marked  with  His  Blood,  calmly  acquiescent 
fcHT  our  sakes  with  all  the  circumstances  of 
the   agonizing   Sacrifice,  through    the  fiery 
furnace  of  human  ingratitude,  ignominy  and 
cruelty,  and  can  therefore  soothe  the  anguish 
of  her  children  who  are   subjected   to  its 
scorching  fhry,  in  such  small  measure  as  He 
sometimes  permits  His  best  beloved  to  endure 
for  His  name's  sake.     Can  we  wonder,  if  in 
seeking  these  heavenly  consolations,  our  de* 
voted  young  friend  turned  away  with  what 
was  called  coldness,  indifference,  apathy,  from 
the  charms  of  her  beautiful  earthly  home,  and 
from  those  claims  of  society  whose  hcUotmiess 
she  had  proved,  to  feed  her  hungry  soul  con- 

0 


93 


THB   TOUNO   CONVERTS. 


■ 


atantly  on  the  Bread  of  Heaven,  and  apply  to 
itR  wounds  the  Balm  of  hci  chosen  Gilead, 
even  the  sacraments  of  '^  the  Church  of  the 
living  God,  the  pillar  and  the  ground  of 
Truth  7"  Was  it  strange,  in  fine,  that  having 
been  permitted  to  taste  one  drop  of  the  cup  of 
human  contempt  which  her  Divine  Master  had 
drained  to  its  dregs,  she  was  so  transported 
to  find  it^  bitterness  changed  to  such  ineffable 
sweetness  as  Heaven  alone  can  yield,  that  her 
soul  thirsted  from  thenceforth  for  those  deeper 
draughts  to  be  quaffed  only  in  the  calm  re- 
cesses of  the  solitudes  which  are  sought  and 
found  by  the  chosen  ones  whom  He  calls  to 
"  forsake  father  and  mother,  houses  and  lands,'' 
and  walk  with  Him  among  the  most  calumni- 
ated of  the  lowly  disciples  of  His  charity? 
If,  conscious  of  the  desertion  of  friends  and 
the  han  of  society,  she  was  sometimes  lonely 
and  sad — ^if,  wounded  by  contumely  and  the 
envenomed  darts  of  calumny,  and,  more  pain- 
fully than  all,  by  the  bitter  thought  that,  to 
the  dear  parents  whose  pride  and  joy  it  would 
be  the  first  and  highest  of  her  earthly  aims  to 
be  (if  she  could  without  sacrificing  her  con- 


,■; 


THB   TOUNO   C0NVEBT8. 


^\f 


science),  she  was  only  a  source  of  mortifica- 
tion and  grief,  she  sometimes  writhed  in 
mortal  agony  and  human  weakness — if,  pass- 
ing throngh  the  fiery  furnace,  some  slight 
traces  of  the  scorching  flames  were  left  upon 
her  otherwise  unsullied  robes,  let  us  not 
wonder  at  this,  but  let  us  rather  give  glory  to 
God  for  imparting  strength  to  a  frail  and  sen- 
sitiye  child,  to  undergo  the  fiery  ordeal  firmly 
and  with  undaunted  courage,  unto  the  end ! 
Let  the  proud  Pharisees  of  the  world — who 
wash  the  outside  of  the  cup  and  platter,  who 
trumpet  their  own  fame,  who  rob  widows' 


thd\'>nt]i/it9t  liieiy,  'of  loaV/  beld^ed  'one.  Let 
the* 'dainly' formalisms  w*]&d*tkanclle  religion  so 
gingerly,  and  deal  it  out  in  precise  and 
measured  periods,  look  down  with  pitiful  con- 
tempt upon  the  humble  devotion  which  im- 
pelled her  to  retire  from  the  luxurious  halls 
where  fashionable  butterflies  display  their 
finery,  and,  once  in  a  week,  lounge  away  a  few 
hours  in  the  elegant  attitudes  and  expressions 
of  their  languid  but  genteel  fervors.    Let  the 


100 


THK   YOUKO  OOMVIim. 


f   . 


arrogant  disciples  of  the  fake  and  haman 
philosophy  of  the  day,  the ''  wise  and  prudent^' 
of  this  world,  from  whom  the  mysteries  of 
Heaven  are  "hidden,"  and  who  therefore 
fancy,  in  the  darkness  of  their  miserable 
blindness  and  unbelief,  that  there  ai'e  no  such 
mysteries — they  who  claim  to  be  the  tolerant 
ones  of  earth,  yet  whose  iron  intolerance 
would  fain  crush  out  of  existence  all  those 
who  siibscribe  not  to  their  "  doctrine  of 
devils/'  their  belief  in  i^nbelief— let  all  such, 
in  the  pride  of  intellects  untaught  of  the 
Spirit  of  God,  sneer  at  what  they  are  pleased 
to  call  th^'^':d4lii^di^';.4]lf  %^^'ifaitft^^ 
devotee,""whose'  •«)*?  ^loi^  'i^rty  'the*  hitfkility 
of  the  C^8]h  Btit  leeifp  wJ)'o(m;9J)e  i[o^>be- 
longs — ^we  who  may' henceforfli  claim  "her 
through  the  grace  and  mercy  of  God,  and  the 
washing  of  the  regenerating  waters,  as  one  of 
our  brightest  and  most  precious  jewels,  of 
whom  "the  world"  truly  "  was  not  worthy" — 
can  well  afford  to  yield  them  that  contempti- 
ble satisfaction,  while  we  "thank  Thee,  0 
Father,  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,"  for  the 
wonders  it  hath  pleased  Thee  to  "  reveal  unto 


THE  TOUMO  COMVIBTS. 


101 


\ 


babes,"  and  our  spirits  rejoice  with  hers  in 
"joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory  \" 

It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  no  letters 
from  Debbie  to  her  faithful  friend  were  extant, 
or  rather  accessible,  after  the  period  of  her 
baptism  until  the  following  March,  when  she 
and  her  sister  Helen  were  attending  school  at 
Burlington,  from  which  place  she  writes : 

"  Thursday  Morning ,  March  M,  1856 — My 
dearest  and  best  friend,  I  will  not  give  you 
cause  to  complain  again  of  my  neglect  in  wri-  j 
ting  to  you.  I  arrived  in  Burlington  lasir 
Monday,  and  although  I  am  quite  busy  arrang- 
ing my  studies,  I  could  not  think  of  letting 
this  week  pass,  without  sending  one  of  my 
hastily  written  letters  to  Yamachiche.  Oh,  ma 
Tante  I  my  happiness  is  so  great,  that  I  cannot 
wish  to  have  it  alone ;  I  want  others  to  share 
it  with  me !  Every  day  brings  me  more  to 
realize  the  goodness  of  God  in  bringing  me 
into  His  Church.  Every  day  I  find  9omething 
more  to  admire,  sbmething  more  to  love;  and 
my  heart  is  too  fvU  and  must  needs  speak  its 
sentiments  very  often.  To  you,  my  best 
friend,  I  can  speak  of  this  inward  joy.    But 


MMi 


102 


TBI  TOUNO  OONVERTI. 


!  '■  !■ 


■'• 


how  few  there  are  around  me  from  whom  I 
can  expect  sympathy.  Jesus  has  been  the  one 
to  whom  all  my  joys  and  griefs  have  been 
made  known  ;  and  though  often  with  tears  I 
have  approached  Him,  He  has  taken  the  load 
off  my  heart,  and  oA,  such  peace  has  taken  its 
place!  Tuesday  Morning,  March  llth — I 
have  not  been  well,  for  a  few  days,  and  could 
not  finish  my  letter  as  soon  as  I  expected. 
This  morning  I  intended  to  haye  gone  to  Com- 
munion, but  I  arose  with  a  severe  headache, 
and  I  am  obliged  to  walk  some  distance  to 
church,  so  I  deferred  it  until  to-morrow. 
This  is  quite  a  disappointment  for  me, 
you  may  be  sure ;  but  I  have  the  anti- 
cipation of  receiving  to-morrow ;  and  that 
will  make  this  day  a  happy  one  necessar- 
ily. I  find  often  my  sad  hours  become  joy^ 
ous  ones,  in  looking  forward  to  the  hour  when 
Jesus  will  become  my  Guest,  and  though  His 
reception  is  so  cold  from  my  poor  heart,  how 
can  we  have  the  source  of  all  love  so  near  our 
souls,  and  not  feel  its  influence?  Oh,  how 
hard  the  heart  must  be  that  mourns  not  its 
base  ingratitude  towards  Jesus  in  the  Blessed 


THE  TOUNe  OOMTIBrt. 


108 


^ 


Sacrament  t  Wtiy  He  comes  to  us  is  still  a 
mystery  to  me  when  He  receives  nanght  but 
coldness  and  neglect  from  us  in  return.  But 
His  sacred  heart  is  so  overflowing  with  love 
for  us,  that  it  must  give  us  constant  proofs  of 
that  love.  Oh,  ma  Tante!  how  I  wish  I 
might  see  you  now  for  a  short  time.  If  I  could 
only  spend  Holy  Week  with  my  dear  convent 
friends  I  Three  years  ago  I  was  with  them  all, 
and  then  I  first  learned  to  love  our  holy  faith. 
Why  am  I  not  with  you  now^  I  cannot  tell.  I 
suppose  it  is  the  will  of  God  ;  but  I  trust  I 
shall  some  time  visit  you  all.  My  hope  is 
strong,  and  I  look  forward  to  the  time 
anxiously.  You  are  still  in  Tamachiche,  and 
are  likely  to  remain,  I  presume,  for  some  time. 

*  *  *    Do  you  think  Kate  T will  be  a 

nun  ?  I  have  thought,  from  some  of  her  let- 
ters, that  she  would.  I  am  sure  I  would  be 
happy  to  see  her  in  the  Novitiate,  Perhap)» 
you  think  this  singular,  but  I  always  thought 
Kate  a  person  of  very  good  mind,  tod  I  do 
do  not  feel  nowBS  I  onee  did,  that  the  talented 
and  gifted  should  belong  to  the  world,  and  the 
ordinary  ones  to  Ood,    Far  from  it ;  just  the 


104 


THE  TOUNO  CONYERTS. 


reverse.  When  you  hear  of  on^  of  your  foi> 
mer  pupils  becoming  a  novice,  I  am  sure  you 
are  very  happy,  ma  Tante.  Is  it  not  so  ?  I 
presume  you  admire  their  choice  of  life,  and 
indeed  so  do  I.  And  now,  good-bye ;  say  an 
"  Ave  Maria  "  for  Debbie,  and  go  to  the  church 
on  Good  Friday,  and  thank  our  dear  Redeemer 
for  the  gift  of  Faith  he  granted  to  your 
joauvre  enfarU,  three  years  ago,  on  that  day, 
praying t, that  I  may  ever  remember  that  it 
was  His  love  and  His  mercy,  that  changed  my 
heart  I  Do  this,  I  beg  of  you  for  Debbie — en- 
fant de  Marie  "^ 

"  Burlington,  April,  1866  :  I  should  have 
answered  your  last  letter  long  ago,  but  I  was 
waiting  for  a  short  time,  that  I  might  have 
some  good  news  to  communicate  to  you,  and 
surely  I  have  not  waited  in  vain.  Helen  is  a 
Catholic  I  She  is  not  yet  baptised,  but  will  be 
very  soon.  She  has  been  to  confession  twice, 
and  has  written  to  father  and  mother  to  obtain 
their  consent.  I  have  not  much  hopes  of  her 
getting  it,  and  I  am  dreading  the  result,  I 
assure  you.  I  know  there  will  be  more  trouble 
at  home  than  ever,  and,  poor  people !  they  will 


THB  YODMO   CONtBRTS. 


106 


1 

think  the  plague  htts  entered  their  family.  I 
presume  they  will  think  "  Debbie's  infliience  *' 
is  terrible,  and  as  there  are  three  more  daugh- 
ters, they  will  fear  for  them^  I  hope  for 
nothing !  I  fear  everything !  But  I  am  tstrong 
enough  to  bear  it.  It  is  coming  hard  for 
Helen  as  well  as  for  myself.  God  is  my 
strength,  and  with  His  assistance,  a^dthe  pro- 
/^tection  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  my  cross  is  a 
light  one.  I  think  my  father  will  be  here  to- 
morrow, for  they  must  hare  received  our  let- 
ters yesterday,  and  they  will  be  very  much 
astonished,  I  know.  I  will  finish  my  letter  to- 
morrow. Have  been  to  Communion  to-day. 
Oh  I  I  hav«  so  much  to  ask  for,  so  much  to  be 
thankful  for,  in  that  sacred  hour  when  the 
God  of  heaven  and  earth  comes  to  dwell 
within  my  soul!  So  many  desires  to  lay 
before  the  Sacred  Heart  of  Jesus ;  bo  many 
infirmities  to  mourn  over,  so  much  grace  to 
obtain!  It  is  a  happy  time,  and  each  Com- 
munion a  never-to-be-forgotten  onel  I  have 
had  such  excellent  Directors  since  my  baptism 
also,  that  confession  is  getting  to  be  such  a 
glorious  privilege  1    How  often  I  wish  Pro- 


106 


THE   YOUNO    CONVERTS. 


testants  could  go  to  Confession.  jt(8t  once/ 
Their  horror  of  the  sacrament  of  penance 
would  be  removed  forever,  I  am  sure.  Tues- 
day morning — Helen  has  just  come  fr<5m  the 
post-office  with  three  letters ;  one  written  last 
Saturday,  when  their  indignation  was  at  its 
height.  Monday,  that  was  yesterday,  they 
wrote  the  others,  and  are  feeling  much  more 
resigned,  and  have  given  their  consent,  how- 
ever reluctant  it  was.  Helen  will  therefore 
be  baptized  on  Thursday  next,  the  Feast  of  Uie 
Ascension.  I  am  sure  you  will  congratulate 
me.  I  am  sure  also  our  prayers  have  been 
answered,  and  still  trust  the  time  is  not  far 
distant  when  all  dear  ones  at  home  will  be  re- 
ceived into  the  Catholic  Church." 

The  letter  which  Helen  wrote  requesting 
the  consent  of  her  parents,  and  to  which  her 
sister  alludes  in  the  foregoing,  I  will  now  give. 
"  My  dear  Fu>rent8 — This  letter  will  surprise 
you  much,  but  as  you  read  it  I  have  only  one 
request  to  make  :  regard  me  with  charity  and 
believe  that  I  would  not  wound  your  feelings 
for  worlds,  if  it  could  be  avoided  ;  but  I  have 
confidence  in  you.  *  *      I  am  a  Catholic.    I 


THE   TOUNO   CONVERTS. 


107 


J. 


have  not  yet  made  a  public  profession  of  my 
faith,  but  my  mind  is  at  rest,  and  1  desire  to 
<jtct  immediately.  The  tie  which  bound  me 
most  strongly  to  Protestantism  is  broken  ;  by 
this  I  mean  you  to  understand  that  I  am  free 

from  my  engagement  with  Mr. .    It  was 

Ms  wish  that  if  I  decided  to  embrace  Catho- 
licity,  our  engagement  might  be  at  an  end; 
and  yesterday  evening  1  returned  his  letters 
etc.,  and  acquainted  him  with  my  decision.  It 
has  been  a  sacri/ioe,  but  not  so  much  have  I 
suffered  from  it,  as  I  do  from  the  thought  that 
this  must  give  you  pain  /  But  life  is  a^or^.  I 
may  be  here  a  year,  a  day,  an  hour,  and  then 
comes  Eternity  !  You  will  say  I  have  been 
influenced  by  some  one.  My  decision  was 
made  without  the  knowledge  of  a  living  person. 
Why  I  have  doubted  the  truth  of  Catholicity 
so  long,  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  I  am  ready 
to  act  under  any  circumstances,  and  I  wish  1 
might  gain  your  consent ;  but  I  hardly  dare 
hope  for  it.  Think  not  to  change  me,  my  Faith 
is  too  strong.  If  I  meet  with  your  displeasure, 
I  can  only  look  to  Heaven  for  assistance,  and 
bear  the  trial  with  all  the  fortitude  I  possess. 


X*M^ 


'  r 


108 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


,  s ." 


'(" 


Be  lenient  towards  me — it  is  all  I  ask  ;  and  if 
I  have  to  go  in  opposition  to  your  wishes— ^br- 
give  !    I  shall  expect  to  hear  from  you  soon.   > 
Your  affectionate  daughter^  ,  Helen." 

When  the  reply  to  this  letter  was  received, 
containing  the  consent  mentioned  in  that  of 
our  dear  Debbie,  the  sisters'^ lost  no  time  in 
making  preparations  for  Helen's  baptism. 
The  arrangements  were  just  completed  when 
their  father  arrived,she  having  been  called  to 
Burlington  on  some  business,  and  he  came  to 
see  them  upon  hif^  first  arrival.  After  express- 
ing his  regret  at  the  decision  she  felt  herself  ' 
bound  to  make,  he  repeated  his  "  reluctant'^ 
consent,  and*  went  out  to  attend  to  the  busi- 
ness upon  which  he  came.  In  the  course  of 
an  hour  or  two  he  returned,  apparently  much 
excited,  and  made  some  severe  remarks,  con- 
cluding by  absolutely  forbidding  Helen  to  ful- 
fill the  intention  she  had  formed,  by  being 
baptized.  The  sisters  were  perfectly  as- 
tounded by  this  sudden  turn  in  their  affairs, 
but  knew  it  was  not  their  father's  own  senti- 
ments he  was  uttering,  so  much  as  those  of 
some  person  he  had  met,  while  he  was  out. 


THE  YOUSO   CONVERTS. 


109 


"When  ho  first  came  and  while  he  was  per- 
fectly ccdm,  he  had,  although  regretfully,  con- 
firmed the  permission  given  in  his  letter,  and 
Helen  determined  to  act  upon  thcU  permission 
in  accordance  with  the  arrangements  she  had 
previously  made.  I  mention  these  circum- 
stances thus  minutely,  because  she  has  been 
severely  censured  for  acting  contrary  to  her 
father's  injunctions  at  last  Be  felt  the  jus- 
tice of  her  course  himself,  so  entirely,  that  he 
never  reproached  her  for  it ;  but  when  she  re- 
turned home,  received  her  with  the  same  kind- 
ness as  if  nothing  unpleasant  had  happened. 
Our  poor  Helen  I  It  would  have  seemed  that 
her  griefs  upon  another  score  were  already 
.sufficiently  poignant,  without  this  addition. 
But  the  hand  of  God  was  in  it  all  I  The 
trials  which  had  darkened  and  wounded  the 
gentle  and  sensitive  heart  of  her  sister,  would 
have  glided  over  her  sunny  spirit  like  summer 
clouds,  without  even  obscuring  its  brightness 
for  a  moment.  Therefore,  her  cross  was 
fashioned  in  a  di£ferent  mould.  But  thanks 
be  to  God,  who  gave  her  "  the  victory  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  1"    She  bowed  meekly, 


ij 


"wvyL"'"  m ''i^l  ■'**  ■   ii"iiii'i)i^p-'«ww»giwws* 


no. 


TBE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


':i^ 


eveu  joyotialy  to  the  heavy  burden,  (none  the 
le88  heavy  for  her  loving  reception  of  it,)  and 
bore  it  with  the  same  generous  firmness  that 
her  lovely  sister  had  manifested  before  her. 
Yet  was  the  confiict  a  bitter  one  ;  how  bitter 
will  appear  in  these  lines  written  by  her  in 
one  of  Debbie's  letters,  to  her  friend  at  Yama* 
chiche  on  the  day  of  her  baptism  : 

"  Will  you  pray,  ma  Tante^  for  one  who 
loves  you  dearly,  yetjj^ms  herself  unworthy 
of  your  love.  Passing  through  deep  waters 
I  falter,  and  am  often  tempted  to  turn  back ! 
God  alone  knows  what  I  have  suffered  since  I 
left  my  convent  home !  I  trust  He  will  give 
me  grace  to  look  beyond  this  miEcrable  world 
for  happiness — that  happiness  which  He  alone 
can  give.    Will  you  pray  for  your  Helen  I" 

On  the  second  of  May,  the  morning  after 
Helen's  baptism,  Debbie  wrote  to  her  mother, 
in  reply  to  a  letter  Helen  had  just  received 
from  her  :  "Burlington,  May  2dj  1856. — My 
Dear  Mother:  This  morning  I  thought  1  would 
write  you  a  few  lines,  and  I  am  sure  I  hope 
they  will  be  acceptable  ones.  Helen  would- 
write,  but  I  thought,  perhaps,  1  could  spare 


THB  YOUNQ  CONVERTS. 


Ill 


her  the  pain  of  bo  doing,  by  writing  for  her. 
The  subject  ot  my  letter  is  to  be  the  answer 
to  the  one  you  wrote  Helen  concerning  Mr. 
.  I  will  assure  you  of  one  thing  to  com- 
mence with,  that  she  will  not  grow  poor,  nei- 
ther will  hT5r  health  fail,  on  account  of  the 
disengagement.  I  can  tell  you  what  I  know 
of  the  a£fair,  and  will  try  not  to  *  use  JesuUir 
ccA  deception,^  in  doing  it.    Last  winter  when 

Mr.  \isitcd  Fairfield,  Helen  told  him 

that  she  thought  of  becoming  a  Catholic,  and 
he  informed  her  that  if  it  sliould  be  so,  their 
engagement  would  be  broken.  He  then  re- 
quested her  to  send  his  iletters  when  she 
should  BO  decide.  If  it  had  been  my  case  he 
wovM  have  taken  them  then  !  After  her  deci- 
sion to  unite  with  the  Church  was  made,  she 
wrote  to  him,  returned  his  letters,  etc.,  as  he 
had  requested.  I  think  the  affair  has  been  per- 
fectly honorabl^on  her  side.  She  has  only 
done  what  to  creed  declares  every  one  bound 
to  do,  that  is,  act  according  to  their  ovm  con- 
victions ;  and  that  they  are  answer aUe  for  it 
also.  If  pretends  to  be  a  Protestant  princi- 
ple, ^jvdge  for  yourself  and  act  accordingly.* 


112 


THB  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


.\ 


\^ 


Slie  had  as  good  a  right  to  say  to  him,  '  Be  a 
Catholic  and  /will  marry  ^ou,^as  he  had  to 
require  her  to  give  up  her  soul's  salvation  and 
remain  a  Protestant,  and  he  would  fulfill  his 
promiaea.  But  he  will  tiemain  where  he  is,  in 
perfect  ignorance  of  the  Catholic  Faith,  be- 
lieving they  *  worship  images,'  '  pay  for  the 
remission  of  their  sins,'  etc.,  and  a  thousand 
other  abominable  falsehoods,  and  require  her 
to  join  wUh  him  in  his  willful  blindness,  or 
give  him  up.  '  He  hates  the  name  of  Catho' 
lief  To  be  sure  he  does  ;  because  he  wHl  do 
no  other  way.  If  his  love  for  her  was  what  it 
should  be,  he  would  look  with  charity  upon 
her  faith,  and  have  some  respect  for  her  opin- 
ions. I  do  not  regret  that  she  has  become 
settled  in  her  mind,  for  if  she  had  married 
that  gentleman,  I  should  pity  her  lot.  If  she 
did  not  agree  with  him  in  his  religious  opin- 
ions she  would  be  obliged  to  seem  to,  and  her 
life  would  indeed  be  one  of  misery.  I  have 
no  sympathy  for  him,  except  pity  for  his  fool- 
ishness !  Helen  is  very  contented ;  says  she 
thinks  she  is  quite  as  good  now,  as  she  was 
two  years  ago,  and  if  he  chooses  to  think  dif- 


THB  YOUNO  COM  VERTS.  1 18 

f^efiUly^  all  the  same  to  her.  She  says  she 
loved  the  idefiji  not  the  reed  ;  and  I  doubt  not 
she  will  live  and  very  happUy  too,  if  he  has 
chosen  to  withdraw  his  promises.  Do  not 
trouble  yourself,  mother,  for  fear  it  will  have 
a  bad  influence  upon  her  usually  joyous  spirits. 
I  do  not  think  she  will  think  leas  of  those 
person-t  who  continue  to  treat  her  the  same  as 
ever.  Give  my  love  to  all  at  home,  and  let 
me  hoar  from  you  soon.  Your  affectionate 
Debbie." 

A  few  days  later,  Helen  wrote  to  her  mo- 
ther : 

"Burlington,  May  Qth,  1856:  My  Dear 
Mother — ^Yours  was  received  this  morning. 
Mother,  I  think  you  aU  do  me  injustice.  I  am 
not  laboring  under  any  '  excitement.'  When 
I  tell  you  that  for  a  year  I  have  thought  and 
read  upon  this  subject  a  great  deal,  tmU  you 
believe  me  then  ?  Will  you  tell  me  that  I 
have  not  regarded  yours  or  father's  feelings, 
or  C-— — 's  either,  when  I  tell  you  that,  times 
without  number,  I  have  wept,  in  the  privacy 
of  my  own  apartment,  tears  of  bitter  anguish 
such  as  few  weep,  when  none  but  the  Eye  of 

10* 


i> 


114 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


( 


\ 


Almighty  God,  my  Heavenly  Father,  was 
upon  me.  When  I  tell  }ou  that  at  times  I 
have  felt  as  if  I  could  give  up  my  soul's 
eternal  salvation,  rather  than  my  earthly  love^ 
tviU  you  say  that  I  have  regarded  no  one's 
feelings?  Oh,  mother  I  you  cannot  think  so  ! 
You  at  kast  will  be  my  friend  f  You  wtU 
think  that  I  have  loved  as  truly  at  least  as  I 
have  been  loved.  I  do  not  wish — I  shall  never 
wish  to  retfojce  the  steps  I  have  taken.  I  have 
acted  too  deliberately  to  be  mistaken.  I  know 
that  I  cannot  change!  I  am  confident  that 
God  has  been  with  me  through  all,  that  His 
Holy  Spirit  has  guided  me,  and  aright.  I 
knew  all  that  would  be  said.  I  knew  aU  that 
would  be  dmie  ;  and  I  felt  for  a  while  as  if  I 
ghould  sink  beneath  the  load.  But  now^  ever 
since  the  first  drops  of  the  baptismcd  waters 
fell  upon  my  head,  have  I  felt  strengthened  to 
bear  every  thing  and  any  thing  for  Him  who 
died  for  me,  and  has  brought  me  to  the  true 
Faith  of  His  Holy  Catholic  Church.  Mo- 
ther I  think  not  that  I  shall  change  or  regret 
the  steps  I  have  taken,  for  I  shall  not.  I  feel 
for  you,  but  I  cannot  see  wherein  I  have  done 


THB  YOUKO   CONVERTS. 


lift 


wrong,  at  least  as  regards  you  and  father. .  If 
you  think  I  have  acted  a  dishonorable  part 

towards  C s,  I  can  only  refer  you  to  him, 

and  Ite  perhaps  will  do  me  justice.  I  was 
baptized  on  Thursday,  the  first  of  May,  in  the 
presence  of  quite  a  number  of  Protestants  and 
some  Catholics.  I  do  not  regret  it,  nor  ever 
shall !  Debbie  wrote  home  a  few  days  since. 
She  would  like  to  hear  from  you.  Give  my 
love  to  aU.    I  remain, 

"  Your  affectionate  daughter,  Helen." 
Debbie  writes  soon   after  :    "  May  10th, 
My  Dear  Mother — Helen  received  yours  of 

the  7  th,  and  as  she  intends  to  write  to  E 

to-day,  wished  me  to  answer  yours.    I  am  in 

hopes  to  wrfll  to  E myself,  this  evening 

and  if  I  do  not,  say  to  her  for  me  that  I  hope 
she  will  not  trouble  herself  too  much  about 

C s.    I  do  not  think  his  apparent  want  of 

feeling  has  raised  him  in  Helen's  estimation, 
and  as  for  myself  it  makes  but  little  differ- 
ence what  I  think  of  it.  Her  letter  to  him 
was  expressiye  of  her  true  feelings  towards  , 
him,  and  though  she  knew  that  he  wished  to 
be  nothing  more  than  an  acqitaintanoe  after 


f'' 


II 


/; 


1 
ii 

\ 


116 


THE  YOUNO  CONTERTS. 


•.■/)■/ 


9 

her  profession  of  the  Catholic  faitWs^  told 
him  she  had  the  same  sentiments  ot  friendship 
for  him  as  ever,  and  that  she  should  continue 
to  have.  His  reply  was  one  which  I  should 
hardly  have  expected  from  a  person  of  any , 
amount  otj'eding,  and  I  think  Helen  will 
trouble,  herself-btit  very  little  hereafter  about 
the  matter.  He  addressed  her, '  Miss  Barlow/ 
thanked  her  for  her  'offered  friendship/  as 
much  as  id  decUne  receiving  it.  To  make  his 
indifference  more  manifest,  he  wo^e  on  a  half 
sheet  of  paper  with  a  lead  pencil/  I  have 
given  you  the  sum  and  amount  of  WjHu  I  know 
about  it  She  has  received  her  letters  to  him, 
and  destroyed  them.  We  sha^||||  ready  to  go 
home  in  about  two /weeks.  .!1^  |Kll  write  you 
again  soon.  Let  us  hear  from  you.  Helen 
sends  love..    Remember  me  to  all.    In  haste, 

Debbie  Barlow." 
I  have  given  this  circumstantial  account, 
written  by  themselves,  of  an  affair  which  would 
not  have  been  even  allvded  to  in  this  work, 
but  for  thO'gr.  <  misrepresentations  that  haye 
been  spread,  a3C>  tlte  nJ.surd  and  unfounded 
,  reports  that  liavt  j.  rev  ailed  ia  relation  to  it. 


i 


TBI  YouKO  ^v|arrs.  fl^ 

The  next  letter  we  have  worn  Debbie  to  hep 
friend  at  Yamachiche,  was  written  at  Fair- 
field, ".7'ju  Sth,  1856.  *  *  A  few  moments! 
wil^  u*"  u  '}.  ^ov4o-hight  in  spirit,  bot  it  is 
dep":5d  ^lo  to  be  with  you  reaUy.  How  Lwish 
t'  e  privilege  was  mine  to  spend  a  short  time  ^ 
in  my  cdnyent  home,  but  it  seems  impossible. 
Everything  works  against  me  in  that  project. 
I  m^y  not  see  you  this  summer,  but  one  thing 
is  certain,  I  shall  not  be  a  groat  while  lonjror^ 
waiting  to  visit  Montreal,  for  I  am  deteiniroed 
to  go  there  tho  first  time  I  leave  ^me  for  any 
length  of  time.  How  often  Ttoish  I  could  be 
witji  you  once  morel  This  morning  I  ap- 
proached  Holp^jCommonion,  and  if  I  could  be 
allowed  to  express  the  joy  of  my  soul  to  you, 
ma  Tante,  you  would  think  Debbie  never  had 
cause  to  regret  that  she  became  a  Catholic  t 
To  be  sure,  I  sometimes  feel  myself  deprived 
.'  the  presence  of  God,  and  sometimes^  I  could 
be  almost  discouraged  at  my  coldness,  my 
lukewarm  prayers  and  devotions  ;  but  I  know 
if.  I  submit  to  His  holy  will  and  bear  these  in- 
terior  trials  with  patience,  that  He  will  not 
forsake  me.    As  little  as  I  deserve  the  many 


I- 


•     / 


u 


118 


THE  YOUNG  CO 


NTE 


EKTS. 


mercies  Jesus  bestows  upoii.  me,  I  must  not 
complain  if  I  am  often  in  d^irkness.  I  whhf 
ma  Tante,  that  I  coald  become  a  saint  I  Is  it 
wrong  to  speak  so  freely  ?  But  oh,  how  much 
more  than  the  desire  it  requires  I  To  toish  to 
go  on  in  the  way  of  perfection,  is  only  a  little 
part  of  the  loork.  The  hill  seems  often  times 
so  long,  and  I  fall  so  frequently,  that  I  should 
almost  give  up,  if  I  ccuild  not  look  beside  me 
and  see  Jesus  ready  and  willing  to  assist  His 
weary  child.  Sometimes  I  think  this  life  a 
long  time — so  little  progress  in  the  spiritual 
life.  Good  resolutions — confessions — com- 
munions— and  immediately  after,  perhaps,  we 
offend  Almighty  God  I  *  *  ♦  Ii]ltay  be  Saying 
too  much  ;  it  might  be  better  if  I  kept  these' 
things  within  myself ;  still,  I  know  you  feel 
an  interest  in  me,  and  would  like  to  know  my 
feelings,  and  how  your  *  pauvre  enfant'  enjoys 
her  Catholic  life.  *  Enjoys  it  ?'  Indeed  I 
do  !  What  wotild  life  be,  if  God  had  not 
been  so  merciful,  and  enlightened  my  poor 
soul!  -Wbbt^tey  I  do  without  the  sacra- 
ment of  penance  ?  How  could  I  exist  now  if 
the  Sacrament  of  the  Altar,  the  Bread  of 


1 


I 


THE   TOUNO  COKVEBTS. 


119 


Augels,  were  taken  from  me  ?  Oh,  God  1 
Hather  let  mo  cease  to  be,  than  ever  be  de- 
prived of  Faith.  And  do  you  remember 
where  I  first  learned  to  love  the  truths  of 
Christ's  Church  ?  Oh,  my  convent  home  1 
Good  Friday  !  and  the  Passion  of  Jesus 
Christ !  When  will  ye  l>e  forgotten  ?  When 
shall  I  cease  to  think  of  the  gifts  bestowed 
upon  me  in  Mary's  Chapel,  on  the  day  that  a 
God  was  crucified  for  man;  and  when  His 
sacred  passion  was,  as  it  were,  placed  before 
my  soul  in  its  plainest  light.  Oh,  passion  of 
Jesus  Christ  I  who  should  be  devoted  to  thee  ? 
Surely,  it  is  /—but  how  cold  I  am,  even  at  the 
sight  of  a  crucifix.  Oh,  ma  Tante,  if  I  could 
only  have  my  heart  filled  with  the  love  of  my 
Saviour  I  And  will  you  not  often  pray  that 
it  may  be  so  ?  I  expect  to  pass  this  summer 
at  home.  *  *  *  *"  Again,  on  the  24th  of 
June,  Debbie  wrote  to  the  same  friend  from 
Fairfield.  After  expressing  -her  earnest  de- 
sire to  go  to  Montreal  to  pass  the  next  Christ- 
mas, if  she  could  not  be  allowed  to  go  before, 
iind  her  fears  that  her  parents  would  not  con- 
sent, mentioning  also  their  apprehensions  tliat 


h 


k 


RfTT' 


"TT 


i»!4«i(«B!^'^''«ii«n»^s«« 


«1M»fiM«.W(».r,»,; 


f( 


120 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


Helen  would  desire  to  enter  a  convent,  she 
adds :  "  I  presume  iliey  think  there  is  no  dan- 
ger of  me.  I  do  not  think  they  need  fear 
much,  for  I  am  sure  I  have  a  mission  at  home 
yet,  and  in  fact  I  think  converts  as  often  find 
it  their  vocation  to  remain  in  the  world  as 
otherwise.  I  am  satisfied  to  do  what  is  righti 
any  way,  and  if  I  am  to  remain  where  I  am, 
I  am  willing.  If  I  am  to  go  somewhere  else, 
just  as  well  satisfied.  I  only  ask  grace  and 
assistance  of  Almighty^God  to  do  His  blessed 
will,  and  then  I  can  say,  *  Will  what  Thou 
pleasesti'  Helen's  conversion  has  aroused 
opposition  anew,  and  I  think  my  father  is 
more  prejudiced  than  ever  against  our  Holy 
Faith.  I  sometimes  think  if  I  were  a  hetUr 
Catholic,  it  might  change  his  id^as  some.  If 
the  example  were  better,  the  effect  might  be 
greater.  But  oh  1  poor  human  nature — so 
liable  to  err,  so  weak,  so  frail.  I  fear,  I 
trernhky  when  I  think  how  many  things  I  cfo, 
that  may  produce  a  wrong  impression  upon 
the  minds  of  those  around  me  I  What  an  ex- 
ample mine  ought  to  be,  and  how  far  short  it 
falls  1***1  have  just  returned  from  the 


THE  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


121 


,  slie 

dan- 
fear 

home 

a  find 

rid  as 

J  righ.ti 

Q I  am, 

ire  else, 

ice  and 

blessed 

it  Tbott 

aroused 

ath^r  is 

lur  Holy 
a  letter 

line.    1^ 
light  be 
iture — so 
\l  fear,  I 
igs  I  dOj 
lion  upon 
lat  an  ei;^ 
sliort  it 
from  the 


church.  We  have  had  the  privilege,  for  a  few 
weeks  past,  of  having  the  Blessed  Sacrament 
with  us,  and  every  day  I  can  go  and  lay  all 
my  wants  before  Him,  whose  home  Is  in  yon- 
der humble  dwelling,  there  to  receive  the 
graces  which  He  daily  distributes  to  His  un- 
worthy creatures.  Oh!  when  iSe  condescends 
to  come  and  make  His  abode  with  us,  what 
more  can  we  ask  7  Oh,  Blessed  Sacrament  t 
what  were  the  world  without  Thee  I  what  a 
weary  waste,  what  an  endless  journey  to 
Heaven  it  would  be!  Ah,  ma  Tante,  what  a 
gift  of  faith  was  that  when  Jesus  taught  me  to 
believe  in  His  Real  Presence  in  the  Holy  Eu- 
charist !  Given  it  was,  almost  without  asking, 
and  why  to  me  ?  Oh,  the  goodness  of  God, 
the  treasures  of  His  mercy  i"  *  *  • 

During  that  month,  Helen  wrote  to  the 
same  0*iend  at  Yamachiche : 

"Fairfield,  June  2Bth,  1856.  My  Dear 
Tante — It  made  me  so  happy  to  receive  those 
few  lines  from  you ;  |  did  not  expect  them, 
and  was  very  much  surprised  when  they  came. 
Dear  Tante,  do  you  remember  what  you  said 
to  me  a  short  time  before  I  left  the  convent? 


11 


122 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS 


:f 


h. 


I  never,  never  could  forget  it,  or  the  circum- 
stances that  led  you  to  say  what  you  did.  I 
do  not  blame  you  ;  you  believed  as  they  told 
you,  and  I  was  too  proitd  to  explain,  as  long 
as  you  did  not  ask  me  for  an  explanation. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  that  before  I  went  to  the 
convent,  God  called  me  to  be  a  Catholic  ?  or 
rather  He  told  me  that  I  might  find  peace  and 
truth  in  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic  Church ; 
and  tlmt  mother  found  one  day  in  my  room 
a  book  that  I  was  reading,  and  forbade  me  to 
finish  it.  I  laid  the  book  aside,  for  I  dared 
not  disobey  ;  but  I  never  forgot  the  impres- 
sion I  had  received.  And  whcii,  some  time 
after,  she  told  me  that  I  was  to  go  to  the  con- 
vent, how  I  wept  for  joy,  and  how  slowly  the 
time  passed  till  I  found  myself  within  the 
convent  walls.  Did  I  ever  tell  you  all  this  ? 
I  think  not,  and  yet  it  is  true.  Oh  I  how 
often  I  wished  to  tell  yotc  just  how  I  felt,  but 
I  cotdd  not ;  times  without  number  were  the 
words  upon  my  lips,  and  one  moment  more 
would  have  saved  mo  untold  grief ;  but  the 
time  would  pass  on,  the  words  ?^ere  not  said, 
and  I  would  turn  away  more  unhappy  than 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTa. 


m 


before ;  and  then  at  those  times  I  would  do 
something  that  would  most  offend  my  teach- 
ers. This  is  my  nature.  The  last  few  weeks 
of  my  stay  there  I  cared  for  nothing — for  no 
one,  I  was  not  loved  ;  no  one  could  under- 
stand me,  not  even  you,  ma  Tante,  so  I  cast 
all  feelings  aside ;  only  at  night,  when  all 
else  were  asleep,  would  I  give  way  to  my 
feelings.  Often  would  I  get  up  from  my  bed 
(regardless  of  the  ru2e,  I  did  not  care  for 
that,)  and  go  into  the  chapel  and  kneel  there 
till  1  dared  stay  no  longer !  then  I  would  go 
back  and  weep  myself  to  sleep.  *  *  ♦  *  I 
used  to  sit  sometimes  and  watch  the  moon  till 
I  could  see  it  no  longer,  and  wish  that  I  was 
anywhere  but  there,  for  I  was  not  happy.  I 
never  went  into  the  garden,  but  often  wanted 
to  go,  for  I  thought  that  the  night  air  would 
be  80  refreshing.  I  started  to  go  once,  but 
gave  it  up  for  fear  of  discovery.  You  are  sur- 
prised, I  know,  but  this  is  tr^e.  I  thought 
I  would  tell  this  to  you,  my  well-beloved 
Tante,  that  you  might  know  my  faults.  You 
know  all  J  committed  except  these  (and  some 
more  that  I  did  not  commit  at  all!)    Is  it 


124 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


strange,  dear  Tante,  that  when  I  came  home  and 
saw  one  who  loved  me,  who  could  read  my 
heart  like  a  hook,  and  asked  me  to  love  him  in 
return,  is  it  strange  that  I  loved  him  as  fer- 
vently as  I  did  ?  and  I  lived  on  in  that  love, 
forgetting  that  aught  could  shadow  its  bright- 
ness ;  but  again,  God  in  His  mercy  called  me, 
and,  dear  Tante,  I  have  given  up  my  earthly 
treaaure  for  n  better  one  in  Heaven !  I  have 
Tiow  fohnd  abiding  rest ;  I  care  not  for  the  love 
of  the  world,  only  as  it  will  please  God  to  be- 
stow it  upon  me.  I  do  thank  the  Blessed  Vir- 
gin that  I  am  a  Oathollj.  Our  Holy  Mother 
has  interceded  for  meat  the  throne  of  Grace,  I 
know ;  and  now  I  look  to  her  to  obtain  the 
grace  for  me  to  love  my  Saviour  more,  and  will 
you  help  me  too,  my  heat  friend,  to  obtain  such 
a  favor.  I,  am  watching  in  patience  through 
the  dark  hours.  I  am  willing  to  lay  at  the  low 
footstool  of  the  Crucified  my  treasures,  every 
one,  and  take  His  cross  and  bear  it  through  the 
hours  of  darkness  till  the  dawn  of  day,  and 
then  I  will  lay  it  down  and  go  homo  to  my 
rest.  I  thank  you,  dear  Tante,  for  that  sweet 
picture.  My  Saviour  crucified !  and  my  sins 


TIIE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


125 


the  cause  of  His  suflferingsl  When  will  the 
time  come  when  I  shall  sin  no  more  ?  Oh,  my 
sweet  Tante,  I  wish  I  could  go  to  Montreal  1 
but  I  cannot  this  summer  ;  it  does  seem  as  if  I 
could  not  wait,  but  would  ^y  to  youl  You 
know  my  antipathy  to  letter-writing  ;  do  let 
this  be  my  excuse  for  this  frightful  looking 
letter.  I  have  not  practiced  much  since  I  left 
the  dear  convent.  If  you  can  have  patience 
with  me,  will  you,  sweet  Tante,  write  again  to 
your  loving  child,  Helen." 

Soon  after  this  letter  was  written,  we  re- 
ceived our  first  visit  from  the  beautiful  sisters, 
in  our  secluded  home.  We  met  them  in  church 
at  St.  Albans,  on  Sunday.  They  were  accom- 
panied by  an  interesting  young  friend  an3  con- 
vent companion,  who  was  visiting  them  from 
Boston,  (the  "  Jennie"  of  Debbie's  letters,)  and 
the  three  were  there,  passing  a  few  days  at  the 
pleasant  home  of  another  convent  schoolmate, 
(the  "  Cora,"  mentioned  by  Debbie,)  just  out  of 
the  village  of  St.  Albans.  As  we  were  there 
with  a  single  carriage,  we  made  arrangements 
to  send  a  double  one  to  convey  them  and  their 
young  friends  to  our  place  in  the  evening.    We 


11* 


,^ 


126 


IHB  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


have  ever  remembered  that  visit  as  one  of  the 
few  green  spots  which  haVe  enlivened  our  soli- 
tary journey  on  the  down-hill  of  life.  The 
music  of  their  clear,  sweet  voices  united  in 
singing  the  soul-stirring  hyttins  of  their  "  dear, 
convent  home ;"  the  cheerful  conversations, 
the. innocent  mirthfulness,  the  merry  pranks 
of  our  sparkling  and  mischief^oving  Helen, 
which  Were  fully  entered  into  by  her  lovely 
companions,  and  enjoyed  to  the  utmost  by  her 
more  sedate  and  quiet  sister,  (who  watched  her 
with  fond  pride,  and  with  more  of  a  mother's 
than  a  sister's  tenderness) ;  the  visits  from 
some  of  the  young  sons  of  our  dear  friends, 
and  from  our  neighbors,  the  rambles  in  the 
woods,  the  rides  on  horseback,  the  drives,  the 
evening  pastimes,  and  above  all,  the  fervent, 
iinited  prayers  yfMeh  closed  each  day— and  aU 
are  before  me  now,  and  even  while  I  am 
writing  o!|^m,  I  pause  to  ask  myself^  is  it  in- 
deed true  imat  they  who  were  the  means  of 
bringing  to  our  solitudes  the  "angel  hours"  of 
that  delightful  dream,  hsive  jpaaaed  away  in  the 
Spring-time  of  their  life,  and  the  freshness  of 
tiieir  bloom,  to  adorn  the  gardens  of  Paradise, 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


191 


and  to  rejoice  iii  the  society  of  the  saints  and^ 
angels,  unto  whom  their  pure  spirits  were 
united  even  in  this  bleak  world  I 

In  July,  1856,  to  the  great  joy  of  our  dear 
Debbie,  hor  parents  at  length  consented  to  her 
making  the  long  desired  visit  to  Montreal,  and 
even  to  her  remaining  a  year  in  Canada  to 
pursue  the  study  of  French,  if  she  could  make 
satisfactory  arrangements  to  that  end.  She 
w^  engaged  in  her  preparations  for  departure, 
and  absorbed  in  the  most  joyful  anticipations 
of  the  pleasures  which  awaited  her  in  her 
"  convent  home,"  until  she  set  out  on  the  first  of 
September,  1856,  upon  which  day  she  began 
the  Diary  from  which  I  shall  give  some  ex- 
tracts as  well  as  from  her  letters  to  her  family, 
during  her  absence.  It  is  a  matter  of  deep 
regret,  that  the  sisters  destroyed  all  the  letters 
they  had  each  received,  previous  to  their  re- 
spective deaths.  Had  their  cMeppondence 
with  me  been  preserved,  it  iMRi  doubtlcfiBs 
have  added  materially  tb  the  interest  of  this 
biography. 

The  first  entry  in  the  Diary  is  8q)tember 
Ut,  1856:  "Left  Fairfield  this  morning  for 


'tv. 


t*^i 


1^  THR   YOUNQ   CONVERTS.  Wk 

J'  . 

fTontreal ;  arrived  in  St.  Albans,  and  spent 
Itho  night  at  Mr.  Hoyt's.  Found  all  well  and 
^  in  a  state  of  excitement ;  Willie  was  going  to 
Canada,  too.  September  2t?— At  Rouse's  Point, 
I  found  that  some  of  my  former  convent  friends 
were  on  the  cars.  To-morrow  !  to-morrow  1 1 
September  Zd — Once  more  in  the  convent  I 
How  can  I  say  anything  ?  Three  years  have 
flown  away  since  I  left  it.  I  say  Jloum  away, 
not  swiftly  though,  for  time  has  passed  slowly 
and  heavily  since  I  bade  adieu  to  this  loved 
spot.  The  days,  weeks,  months,  and  years 
have  brought  with  them  many  changes  ;  some 
happy  ones-HJome  sad.  When  I  left  I  was 
without  the  Church  of  God,  (but  derived  it 
V  then.)  Dark  days  were  those,  but  my  heart 
^*  had  received  impressions  within  those  convent 
walls  never  to  be  forgotten !  Jesus  in  Hi» 
great  mercy  did  not  forget  me.  He  has  fought 
the  fight  foj^ffis  weak  child,  and  in  the  excess 
of  His  lo^Wfe  placed  her  in  the  "  Ark  of 
Safety."  All  glory  to  His  Holy  Name  I  He 
has  also  called  one,  who  is  near  and  ^ear'to 
me,  and  guided  hm  footsteps  into  the  fjath  of 
salvation.     But,  again  I  am  in  my  convent 


^ 


II 


TBI  TOUNO  COKTEBTS. 


1^ 


homo!  Can  it  be?  la  it  possible?  It  is 
even  so.  Everything  looks  the  same.  I  have 
been  to  the  nnns'  chapel.  Is  it,  0,  my  God, 
a  reality?  Shall  I  not  wake  and  find  it  a 
dream  ?  I  have  closed  my  eyes  and  dreaded 
to  open  them  for  fear.  But  I  am  right.  Those 
H  are  the  same  paintings,  the  same  altars  and 
V  and  statnes,  and  even  the  same  venerable  old 
priest  who  said  Mass  for  ns  every  morning, 
three  years  ago,  is  offermg  up  the  Adorable 
Sacrifice.  And  I  have  seen  all  mjr  beloved 
teachers,  among  them  ma  Xante  S — ,  she,  who 
had  the  ^eatest  care  for  my  salvation  ;  she, 
to  whom  I  owe  every,  thing.  If  to-day  I  pos- 
sess faith — if  to-day  I  am  a  Catholic,  it  is  to  her 
prayers  that  I  owe  iti^  I  am  now  a  child  of 
Mary,  it  was  she  gave  me  mj  first  knowledge 
of  the  devotion  to  that  sweet  Mother ;  if  I  was 
led  to  \nqnire  for  the  truth,  it  was  ma  Tante 
who  gave  me  the  first  book ;  and  illiave  seen 
her  again,  my  friendr— m^  more  than  friend, 
ten  .thousand  times  more  than  that  I  She  loved 
my  sonl  because  Jesns  Christ  died  to  save  it. 
Her  reward  is  in  Heaven.  The  day  has  passed 
in  a  oontinnal  visit  f    I  have  seen  every  one  ; 


180 


THIC   yOUNO   CONVGRra. 


if 


been  in  every  room.  Not  much  is  changed, 
nothing  but  myself.  September  4<A— Slept 
sweetly  in  my  convent  home  last  night,  no  bad 
dreams  to  disturb  me,  and  joyous  happy  faces 
this  morning  to  meet  my  gaze.  Happy  child 
am  I,  once  more  to  have  returned  I  The  con- 
vent walls  which  once  looked  so  gray,  so  dark, 
so  dismal,  now  the  sight  of  them  makes  my 
heart  leap  to  my  mouth  for  joy.  Happy  days  I 
In  ftfker-life  I  will  look  back  and  call  them 
blessed.  ♦  *  *  September  17M— Sunday  Ves- 
pers—dear convent  home  I  This  brings  back 
other  days.  '  Can  it  be  I  am  here  once  more  ? 
I  have  dreamed  it  many  times  but — awoke, 
and  now  it  is  reality  /  The  "  Magnificat^'  is 
as  beautiful  as  ever,  and  the  "Ave  Maris 
Stella"  sounds  strangely  familiar,  but  a  trifle 
sweeter  and  is  a  trifle  more  touching  to  the  soul 
ihaa  three  years  ago.  *  *  September  8th — 
Feast  of  the  Nativity  of  the  Blessed  Virgin ; 
joyous  happy  feast!  received  Holy  Commu- 
nion in  Mary's  chapel  this  morning.  Here  in 
this  little  chapel,  the  place  dearest  to  me  on 
earth,  I  am  at  last  allowed  to  partake  of  that 
Sacred  Banquet  which  Jesus  has  prepared  for 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


181 


18 


on 

that 

for 


His  children.    I  used  to  watch  those  who  ap- 
proached to  receive  His  precious  Body  and 
Blood,  and  wonder  if  the  time  would  ever  come 
when  I  also  should  e^joy  the  same  privilege  ; 
and  here,  too,  before  the  same  Altar  where  i 
first  felt  that  a  God  was  reaMy  present.    The 
time  has  come,  and  I  can  only  say  in  my  heart, 
(for  lips  cannot  speak  their  meaning,)  Thanks 
be  to  Thee,  O,  my  God  I    Thou  hast  remem- 
bered  me  when  my  soul  was  lost  in  darkness  ; 
Thou  hast  shown  me  the^wth  wherein  I  should 
walk,  and  guided  me  in  the  way  of  salvation. 
September  1(MA — Bade  adieu  to  the  dear  con- 
vent and  all  the  loved  ones  there,  and  started 
this  afternoon  for  the  mission  convent  at  St. 
Eustache  with  ma  Tante  S — ,"  (who  was  now 
removed  from  Tamcachiche  to  St.  Eustache. 
"  St.  Eustachf,  September  \2th,  1866.    Fri- 
day Evening,    My  Dear  Mother :  I  am  just 
getting  settled  at  St.  Eustache  ;  hare  written 
a  long  letter  to  Helen,  and  must  tell  you  how 
I  am  pleased  with  the  place,  my  prospects,  etc. 
St.  Eustache  is  a  very  pleasant  village  about 
twenty  miles  from  Montreal.    It  is  not  on  the 
St.  Lawrence,  but  on  a  branch  6f  that  river. 


.i) 


132 


THE  YOUNG    CONVEBTS. 


'  i 


u 


r 


u 


The  convent  is  pleasantly  situated,  the  river 
passing  just  back  of  it,  while  the  church  and 
burial-place  is  on  the  right,  and  a  verj  pretty 
yard  in  front.  S —  is  with  me  and  two  French 
nuns.  Everything  seems  for  my  advantage 
now.  The  Sisters  are  very  agreeable  persons, 
but  I  must  learn  French  before  I  can  speak 
much  with  them.  I  find  the  scholars  most,  if 
iioi  aXl,  French,  and  I  think  I  shall  not  fail  to 
impipve.  We  came  to  St.  Eustache  by  car- 
riage, and,  being  onl^  twenty  miles,  found  it 
quite  an  agreeable  drive.  Before  leaving  Mon- 
treal, S — 's  father  came  from  Quebec  to  the 
city,  with  his  daughter  to  place  her  at  Villa 
Maria,  fLnd  I  went  with  them  to  that  place. 
S —  went  with  us.  Her  sister  is  a  lovely  girl, 
and  has  been  in  the  convent  since  I  left.  I 
had  a  nice  visit  with  them  I  assure  you.  S— ^ 
remembers  you  well,  and  father  also.  As  she 
is  with  me,  I  do  not  think  I  shall  have  any 
trouble  in  getting  along.  The  school  is  not 
large — twenty  boarders  and  as  ipany  day- 
scholars.  How  are  all  at  home?  Grand- 
mother, I  suppose,  is  as  usual.  IChe  girls  I 
trust,  are  wdl,  and  Father  is,  I  presume,  as 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


133 


much  engaged  in  political  affairs  as  ever.  You 
must  let  me  hear  often  from  home.  You 
see,  I  have  commenced  well.  I  have  written 
twice,  and  this  is  the  third  time,  in  two  weeks. 
How  is  i^ — ,  and  her  little  one?  Give  my  love 
to  her,  also  to  any  of  my  friends  who  inquire. 
I  am  very  well,  and  think  I  shall  be,  for  this 
place  is  very  healthy.  Write  s6on  *  *  *  love 
to  all  the  girls,  tell  them  to  write  to  me; 
and  father  also.  Debbie  Barlow,  En/ant  de 
Marie," 

"  We  extract  from  the  Diary.  "  September 
21«^-r-Went  to  confession  this  morning,  and 
received  Holy  Communion ;  a  happy  day  of 
course,  how  cotdd  it  be  otherwise  ?  Feast  of 
our  Lady  of  Seven  Dolors,  one  of  my  favorite 
days." 

"St.  Bustachb,  October  Uth,  1866:  My 
Dear  Faiker — ^I  have  now  been  something 
ovef  a  month  in  my  new  situation,  and,  know- 
ing you  would  be  pleased  to  hear  from  me  not 
only  by  others,  but  from  myself,  I  thought  I 
would  write.  I  am  very  well  pleased,  so  far, 
with  my  opportunities  here.  I  am  getting 
along  finely  with  my  French  ;  in  fact  I  hear 

12 


U: 


134 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


. 


<\ 


but  very  little  else  spoken,  except  on  the  days 
I  am  in  my  English  classes.  I  understand 
much  more  than  when  I  came,  and  am  getting 
to  like  the  language  much.  St.  Eustache  is  a 
pleasant  little  place  and  very  healthy,  at  least 
I  find  it  so.  I  am  in  good  health  myself,  and 
hope  to  continue  so.  I  suppose  you  will  be  so 
busy  now  as  hardly  to  find  time  to  answer 
your  political  correspondents,  much  less  me. 
Well,  all  right ;  ray  letters  are  of  little  or  no 
consequence,  and  the  former,  I  really  think, 
are.  I  am  something  of  a  politician  myself, 
and  even  here  I  become  more  or  less  interested 
in  those  affairs,  which  I  suppose  belong  more 
to  the  "  lords  of  creation,"  than  to  my  own 
sex.  I  am  quite  willing  they  should  have  the 
voice  and  sway  the  sceptre ;  I  am  not  inclined 
to  quarrel  on  this  subject,  but,  you  know,  one 
will  get  really  interested  upon  thoa*  questions 
which  excite  their  country.  I  suppose  you  are 
as  much  engaged  as  ever  with  the  coming  con* 
test,  and  oftentimes  I  imagine  I  see  you  as  on 
the  day  I  left  home.  And  how  is  it?  Is  our 
country  still  to  be  governed  by  a  man  after 
your  own  heart  ?    I  trust  so.  and  am  anxious 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


185 


to  know.  Every  cne  has  a  subject  upon  which 
they  feel  more  interest  than  upon  any  other, 
and  this  being  yours  particularly,  I  am  inter- 
ested also.  *  *  *  Give  my  love  to  all  at  home, 
and  tell  them  to  write  often.  And  now  I 
must  close.  I  wish  you  a  glorious  victory, 
and  remain  your  affectionate  daughter,  Debbib 
Barlow." 

"  St.  Eustache,  Oct. — My  Dear  Mother^ 
Though  I  have  written  home  twice  this  week, 
I  thought  I  would  once  more,  and  I  am  sure 
you,  as  usual,  like  to  hear  from  me.  I  wrote 
to  father  a  few  days  since,  and  I  presume  he 
has  received  the  letter  long  ere  this  reaches 
you.  I  am  as  well  as  ever  and  contented 
also.  *  *  I  was  in  Montreal  yesterday,  and 
on  my  return,  found  Helen's  letter  with  the 
sad  intelligence  of  the  dangerous  illness  of 
our  respected  Bishop.  I  have  written  to 
Helen  to-day.  I  am  sure  she  will  find  that  I 
write  often  enough,  and  I  trust  she  will  reply. 
I  am  happy  to  hear  from  her  that  she  is  much 
better  of  her  cough.  I  hope  all  will  be  well 
now  if  she  gets  rid  of  that.  How  come  on 
affairs  in  Fairfield  ?    I  suppose  as  usual.    I 


U'-' 


m 


THE   TOUMO,  CONYEBTS. 


h 


fmagine  the  Crowded  soirees,  parties,  -etc.,  jou 
will  be  apt  to  have  the  ensuing  season  I  The 
diie,  only,  of  the  town  invited  of  course  1 
How  is  grandmother  now  ?  The  children,  I 
suppose,  are  well  and  good.  I  will  write  to 
Charlotte  and  Laura  in  my  next  letter.  They 
may  expect  it ;  and  Anna,  she  has  not  an- 
swered my  letter  ;  she  must.  It  is  time  she 
eomm^nced  writing  letters.  You  speak  of 
B — —  and  her  babe.  Give  her  my  love,  and 
tell  her  I  would  be  pleased  to  hear  from  her. 
I  often  think  of  her,  and  this  morning  at  my 
communion,  she  was  not  forgotten.  Tall  her 
this  for  me.  Do  you  hear  from  Madrid,  and 
how  and  what  do  you  receive  from  there  ?  I 
suppose  things  are  as  usual.  Changes  though  \ 
how  many  changes  there  have  been  in  three 
years !  I  never  saw  anything  like  it  1  Give 
my  love  to  all.  Let  me  hear  often.  Your 
true  Debbie.    En/ant  de  MarieJ^ 

Diary.  "  Nov.  dth — Went  to  confession 
this  morning,  again,  and  received  Holy  Com* 
munion— every  Sunday,  this  favor  from  God ! 
I  am  the  one  who  should  be  thankful,  but  I  am 
not;  I  am  ever  forgetting.    Other  ihing?  a;*c 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


m 


thought  of,  but  this  'is  not.    Happy  souls  are 
those,  who  can  live  one  day  without  showing 
ingratitude  to  their  Godl     Nov.  10th — Re- 
ceived a  letter  from  home.    Helen  has  been 
confirmed,  and  now,  I  trust,  will  get  along 
finely,  with  everything.  *  *  *  St.  Eustache, 
Nov. — Dear  Mother — Your  letter,  and  Helen's 
also,   were  received    this    afternoon,  and  I 
thought  I  would  write  yon  a  few  lines  that 
you  might  get  them  Saturday.    I  am  well,  per- 
fectly so.     I  do  not  think  I  have  felt  so  well, 
in  two  years,  as  I  do  now.    I  am  getting 
along  nicely  with  my  French,  and  hope  to 
continue  to.    I  trust  Helen  is  getting  better 
from  what  you  say,  and  the  rest  of  the  family 
are  well.    I  shall  look  for  my  things  soon, 
and  will  write  again  before  long.  *  *  Give 
my  love  to  father,  and  any  of  the  friends  who 
inquire.  *  •  •" 

"  Nov.  15^A,  1856  :  My  Dear  Father-^T\k\% 
morning  the  pleasing  intelligence  was  con- 
veyed to  me,  that  Mr.  Buchanan  had  been 
elected  to  the  office  of  President  of  the  United 
States.  I  could  not  do  otherwise  than  write 
and  congratulate   you  upon  the  happy  suc- 

12* 


• 


'[ 


:: 


138 


THE  YOUKO  CONVEBTB. 


cess.  I  can  only  imagine  the  state  of  mind 
among  the  Democrats  at  present ;  and  to  one 
"who  has  so  much  interest  in  political  a£fairs  as 
yourself,  I  am  sure  the  result  of  the  last  elec- 
tion has  been  most  satisfactory.  This  morn- 
ing, -while  at  breakfast,  a  note  was  sent  in  to 
*  Miss  Barlow'  informing  us  of  the  Victory  I 
The  nuns  offer,  very  respectfully,  their  felici- 
tations with  mine.  I  can  only  say  to  you,  I 
think  the  Democratic  party  is  taking  full  pos- 
session of  our  country,  and  is  becoming  as 
strong  as  the  nation  itself  I  A  happy  state  of 
things  as  far  as  I  can  see.  Neto  parties  try- 
ing to  reform  the  old,  and  hdld  up  new  creeds 
of  their  own,  do  not  suit  my  taste,  and  in 
the  case  of  the  political  factions  of  the  Re- 
public, not  likely  to  amount  to  much.  I  see 
the  admirable  party  called  " Know  Nothings" 
met  with  a  decided  failure.  Not  much  to  be 
regretted  I  I  suppose  every  State,  every  town 
and  city  has  had  its  whirl  of  excitement,  and 
is  again  comparatively  quiet.  The  conquer- 
ors sing  songs  of  victory,  and  the  conquered 
chant  the  lamentations  of  *  Disappointed 
Hope  I'     I  have  said  but  few  words,  though 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


139 


enough  for  me,  aud  wishing  you  still  further 
success  in  all  undertakings,  I  remain  your  af- 
fectionate daughter,  Debbie  Baplow.*' 

"  Nov.  22d.—My  Dear  Mother^The  box 
came  by  express  last  night  safe  and  sound. 
Everything  pleased.  Receive  many,  very  many 
thanks.  I  have  no  need,  whatever,  of  the  bal- 
sams you  spoke  of  now,  for  my  cough  has  left 
me  entirely.    I  have  had  good  scoldings  from 

Sister in  the  French  language,  and  from 

Sr. in  English,  and  doEies  of  this,  that,  and 

the  other  thing,  until  I  am  perfectly  free  from 
all  appearance  of  a  cold.  Indeed,  it  was  not 
exceedingly  bad  any  way,  but  they  have 
made  me  put  on  flannels  throughout — last 
month,  some  time— and  have  kept  ointment  on 
my  chest,  until  I  am  sure  I  shall  never  need 
any  more.  I  am  not  troubled  with  my  former 
headaches  scarcely  any,  and,  in  fact,  my  health 
is  first  rate.  I  get  along  nicely  at  St.  Eus* 
tache — fare  well,  and  have  no  trouble  what- 
ever.   And  so  Mr. is  married  I    I  have 

nothing  to  say  about  it,  any  way,^  As  for 
Helen,  she  has  the  great  consolation  of  know- 
ing  she  has  done  something  for  God  ;  and  for 


140 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


lier  generosity,  she  will  have  a  reward  surpass- 
ing anything  this  world  can  give.  I  am  sure 
she  knows,  as  every  good  Catholic  should,  that 
what  is  lost  in  this  world  for  God,  is  gained  a 
thousand-fold  in  the  next.  The  crown  which 
awaits  her  if  she  is  faithful  to  grace,  we  might 
envy !  I  can  only  imagine  what  it  will  be,  and 
my  poor  imagination  is  just  nothing  in  this 
case.  Pappy  child  is  she  I  And  so  you  have 
some  additions  to  society  in  Fairfield.  I  am 
happy  to  hear  it.  If  Helen's  health  permits,  I 
trust  she  will  enjoy  it.  I  have  written  her  to- 
day, and  in  the  same  letter  I  have  to  send 
yours.  I  want  them  to  go  to-night.  I  am  as 
careless  as  you  please  about  the  style  of  my 
letters,  of  late,  from  tht  fact  that  I  am  gene- 
rally in  a  hurry,  or  write  in  class  with  \ny 
young  juveniles  around  me,  studying.  There 
is  one  here  about  Anna's  age  who  looks  won- 
derfully like  her ;  and  tell  Laura  there  is  one 
who  looks,  not  like  Janet,  but  like  Eliza  Anne. 
And  one  I  saw  in  Montreal,  at  the  boarding- 
school,  the  exact  image  of  Charlotte  ;  I  assure 
you  the  exact  likeness  of  her  I  I  have  every- 
thing I  want,  and  when  I  want  more  you  shall 


TBI  TOUNO  COMVIBTS. 


141 


know  it.  We  have  had  snow,  and  it  is  gone 
again.  But  winter  is  close  at  hand  ;  we  have 
fine  weather  most  of  the  time.  I  have  been  in 
Montreal  once,  since  I  came  to  St.  Eustache^ 
and  expect  to  go  again  when  we  have  good 

roads.    Sr. s  sister  is  going  to  visit  as 

soon.  I  saw  her  and  her  father  in  Montreal. 
He  is  a  very  pleasant  gentleman.  *  *  1  have 
no  news  to  write,  and  of  course  my  letters 
have  to  be  short.  Give  my  love  to  all.  Truly 
your  Debbie,  Enfant  db  Marie. — P.  S.  I 
hope  Helen's  health  will  continue  to  improve. 
She  must  be  very  careful,  and  get  rid  of  that 
cough." 

Extract  from  Diary  :  "  Nov.  30<A~-St.  An- 
drew's day,  the  anniversary  of  my  baptism. 
Oae  year  ago  !  how  time  has  flown  since  the 
joyful  day  of  my  baptism  I  I  am  not  aware 
where  it  has  gone  so  swiftly  ;  each  day  some 
new  beauty  has  been  unfolded  before  me,  and 
every  hour  I  have  had  new  reasons  to  offer 
praise  and  thanksgiving  to  Almighty  God. 
Another  yegr  of  my  Catholic  life  has  com- 
menced for  me ;  and  shall  it  be  as  productive 


u% 


TBI  TOUNO  CONTERTS. 


i 


of  evil  as  the  past  one  7  Shall  there  be  no 
more  good  resolutions,  no  more  e£forts  to  sub- 
due evil  inclinations,  no  more  progress  in  vir- 
tue  ?  Ah,  the  longer  I  live,  the  more  I  find 
in  poor  I  to  fight  against ;  the  more  I  discover 
bow  little  courage  I  have  for  the  warfare,  and 
how  much,  how  very  much  is  needed.  But, 
with  the  help  of  God  I  will  continue  ;  I  will 
renew  my  feeble  efforts  and  hope  for  the  best. 
Have  iieen  to  Communion  this  morning,  and 
must  commence  with  fi'esh  courage." 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  of 
Helen's,  to  the  convent  friend  at  St.  Eustache, 
so  frequently  addressed  by  her  sister.  The 
date  does  not  appear,  but  it  was  during  the  fall 
that  Debbie  was  there.  ♦  *  "  Though  I  may 
appear,  I  am  no^  cold-hearted.  You  ask  me 
why  I  am  not  more  confiding  ?  I  cannot  tell 
why,  only  that  it  was  never  my  habit  to  make 
my  feelings  known  to  any  one  if  it  could  be 
avoided.  I  always  dreaded  it,  and  even  now, 
because  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  speak  to 
my  Confessor  of  some  interior  troubles,  I  at 
times  suffer  great  agony  of  mind.  *  *  *  Night 


TBI   YOUNQ  CONVERTS. 


U3 


after  night,  as  I  knelt  in  that  dim-lighted 
chapel,  I  prayed  earnestly  that  God  would 
direct  and  strengthen  me  to  do  my  duty. 

"  But  God,  through  ways  they  hare  not  known. 
Will  lead  His  own !" 

And  years  have  passed,  and  I  am  only  now  as 
it  were,  a  Catholic.  What  I  have  suffered 
none  can  ever  know  but  those  whose  minds 
have  been  through  just  what  mine  has  been. 
Away  down  amid  the  darkness  of  infidelity, 
my  heart  has  roved ;  and  what  was  I  thinking 
of  when  I  could  give  myself  up  to  fluch  dark- 
ness of  mind  ?  The  love  of  a  human  being ! 
*  *  This  has  been  my  greatest  sin.  Oh,  my 
God,  forgive  mel  *  *  *"  I  will  here  give  a 
part  of  another  letter,  written  by  Helen  soon 
after  the  foregoing  one,  and  to  the  same  per- 
son. These  letters  were  probably  enclosed 
to  Debbie,  as  no  date  appears  upon  them  : 
"Dearest  Tante — I  have  laid  aside  everything 
for  a  while  that  I  may  write  to  you.  I  have 
had  so  little  time  to  write  lately,  that  I  would 
hardly  have  finished  my  letter  to  sister,  when 
the  mail,  would  come  and  it  would  be  too  late 
to  send  one  to  you.    I  think  I  shall  be  obliged 


■**•. 


144 


THE   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


lo  go  again  to  the  Convent  to  learn  to  be  more' 
orderly  in  my  habits.  Everything  /  have  to  do, . 
always  has  to  be  done  at  the  same  time.  Deb- 
bie knows  how  that  is.  I  think  she  will  smile 
if  she  sees  this  my  honest  confession.  Dearest 
Tante  S — ,  you  could  not  make  mo  happier 
than  you  did  when  you  told  mo  that  you  loved 
me  so  dearly.  I  have  always  been  too  sensi- 
tive,  but  I  could  not  help  it.  Yes,  my  dear 
Taiite,  you  were  compelled  to  appear  indiffer- 
ent to  me,  but  what  was  the  cause  ?  Not  the 
jealousy  of  others  entirely,  but  my  otm  con- 
duct would  not  allow  you  to  feel  the  same  to- 
wards me  that  you  had  done.  Well,  it  is 
past.  You  have  forgiven  and  still  love  your 
child.  ♦  ♦  ♦  *  No,  my  dearest  Tante,  I  did 
not  expect  to  be  all  love,  all  fervor  ;  but  I  did 
expect  to  be  able  to  give  up  all  things  for 
Christ  without  a  murmur.  *  *  *  In  the  hour 
of  temptation  I  wrote  to  you  ;  it  is  over  now  ; 
I  have  yielded.  I  desire  to  do  His  will  in  all 
things— even  more,  to  lay  down  my  life  for 
Him.  Two  days  after  receiving  the  sacra- 
ment of  confirmation  the  first  trial  came,  (you 
know  what  news  I  mean,)  and  but  for  the 


TUB   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


146 


|i 


strength  I  then  received,  I  fear  I  had  been 
overwhelmed  by  the  waves  of  sorrow  that  then 
flowed  in  upon  my  heart ;  far  more  strongly 
than  I  had  dreamed  of,  did  it  retain  the  re* 
membrance  of  the  past.  Yet  I  regret  it  not. 
You  know,  my  own  Xante,  your  child  is  sincere, 
I  thank  God  that  He  has  granted  me  this,  that 
I  may  glorify  Him  by  suffering.  And  now, 
dear  and  sweet  Xante,  write  me  soon  (as  I  re* 
quested  Debbie)  a  long  good  letter,  as  you 
generally  do ;  it  makes  me  better,  I  like  your 
way  of  telling  me  things,  dear,  dear  Xante  I  I 
have  written  in  haste.  Excuse  the  imperfec- 
tions  of  this  letter.  Y^  i  ailectionate  and 
grateful  child,  -     Helen." 

Extract  from  Debbie's  journal :  "  Montreal, 
Dec,  6th — Went  to  Communion  this  morning, 
in  the  little  chapel  at  the  bonrding-school. 
Xhis  is  one  of  the  great  pleasures  I  have  when 
I  come  to  Montreal,  and  it  should  be,  I  am 
sure.  Why  that  spot  is  dearer  than  others  I 
dllbnot  know ;  it  is  the  home  of  the  heart  for  me, 
and  mlist  ever  be.  Xime  may  pass  with  its  many 
changes,  but  there  will  be  none  for  me  as  re* 

18 


/ 


146 


THE  TOUNG  COXVERTS. 


in 


r-!-- 


gards  tbat  little  Oratory  of  Mary.  Dec,  Sth 
— Feast  of  the  Immaculate  Conception  anr* 
the  Anniversary  of  my  First  Communion.  The 
weather  not  quite  as  fine  as  last  year  at  this 
time.  I  have  a  slight  remembrance  of  my  joy- 
ous day  in  St.  Albans,  the  eighth  of  December, 
1855.  Pbobablt  my  memory  will  bo  good 
all  my  life  on  that  subject.  Dec.  16*A—^I  re- 
ceived a  letter,  telling  of  the  desire  of  one  very 
near' and  dear  to  me,  to  be  confirmed  when  the 
bishop  visited  Fairfield.  Poor  de4r  one !  h^ 
desire  will  some  time  be  gratified.  I  must 
write  a  few  lineQ  to  Anna  also,  who  has  come 
to  the  happy  conclusion  of  becoming  a  Catho- 
lici  What  glorious  news  I  Wfiot  a  happincse 
if  the  time  does  come  when  I  shall  siee  them 
within  the  '  Ark  of  Safety  I'  Qod  grant  that 
it  may  be  so !  Hope  on,  hope  ever  my  ^oul, 
for  He  is  all  goodness."  ^  * 

"Convent  op  the  Conobboation  N.  D.,  St. 
BusTACHB,  Dec.  — ,  1856 — My  dear  Mother: 
Your  last  letter  I  should  have  answered  in 
Helen's,  but  at  that  moment  I  had  not  time  ex- 
cept to  finish  hers.    I  am  most  happy  to  hear 


tmp  YOUNG  CONCERTS. 


147 


that  you  are  all  well^  and  hope  this  may  long 
continue.  *  *  *  *  I  went  to  Montreal  week 
before  last  with  S-~— .    Had  tisn  minutes  to 
dress  in,  you  can  imagine  the  hurry  ;  got  to 
YiHa  Maria  in  the  evening,  aroused  the  poor 
nuns  from  their  devotions  in  the  chapel  by  a 
tremendous  knocking  at  the  entrance,  and  ring- 
ing of  the  be!l.    We  were  so  muffled  up  in 
cloaks,  hoods,  etc.,  that  no  one  knew  us  a^ 
first.     Sister  M — ,  who  came  to  the  door, 
scanned  us  from  head  to  foot  before  admitting 
such   strctgghrs,  Mid  finally   recognized  us. 
Ma  Tante  N-—  was  there,  an^  she  thought  it 
must  be  some  one  in  the  greatest  distress 
imaginable.    While  at  the  convent  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  many  old  friends  among 
boarders,  and  some  others.  The  convent  build- 
ing aarrowly  escaped  being  destroyed  by  fire 
last  week.    My  letter  to  Helen  contains  some 
of  the  details  though  I  have  not  heard  much. 
How  does  Fairfield  progress  since  there  are 
some  new-comers  and  some  departures  ?    Just 
remember  me  to  all  who  may  inquire ;  when 
I  go  home  I  suppose  I  shall  find  some  new  faces, 
some  old  ones  gone.     How  is  grandmother 


\\ 


148 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


!     U 


now  ?  I  suppose  about  the  same.  You  spoke 
of  my  going  home  in  your  last  letter.  There 
is  no  vacation  at  present^  and  I  could  not  leave 
without  breaking  in  upon  the  duties  of  the 
school.  They  expect  me  to  stay  until  July, 
and  I  desire  to.  If  I  went  home  before  that 
time  I  should  wish  tcr  return  to  finish  the  year, 
and  I  think,  for  only  a  few  duys,  it  would  be 
foolish  to  go.  I  am  doing  well  and  I  had  bet- 
ter g9  on.  My  love  to  all.  I  remain  as  ever, 
your  aflfectionate  daughter,  Debbie  Barlow, 
Enfant  de  Marie J^ 

The  following  note  to  her  sister  Laura,  ap« 
pears  to  have  been  enclosed  in  the  same  en- 
velope, with  the  foregoing  letter :  "  My  dear 
little  Sister :  Your  note  was  received  with  the 
greatest  happiness.  I  am  glad  you  are  com- 
mencing to  write  letters.  You  should  con-, 
tinue.  Wriie  to  me  as  often  as  you  can.  Your 
picture  pleased  you.  I  am  glad  of  it.  1  think 
it  very  nice  myself.  I  sent  as  pretty  ones  as  I 
C3uld  find  in  Montreal  at  the  time.  So  you 
think  I  am  getting  tvUd  in  the  convent.  Wild 
in  my  old  age!  Fie,  Laura!  I  am  growing 
atcady  ;  I  must  be,  for  my  station  requires  it» 


THE  TOUNO  GONVBRTS. 


M« 


1 


\ 


Teachei?!  1  ima^gine  you  would' laugh  to  bo6 
jhe:  Ma  Talite  S—  says  I  cannot  scold ;  when 
she  wants  to  haye  a  hearty  laugh,  she  contrives 
sbnie  Way  to  hear  me  scold  my  children.  I 
diness  thetti  sometimes  wrth  dunce  caps  when 
Mr.  G— ,  the  parish  priest,  is  coming  to  hear 
the  marks  read,  and  let  him  do  the  ledunng. 
Good  way.  I  must  here  cbse.  Good  bye! 
J>mBm,  jP^^0«i  de  MarieJ' 

Inowr^^  *-  to  the  Diary:  "  Janti^ry  Istj 
1857,  New  Yeab^b  Day — A  new  year  just 
commencing  ;  one  just  past ;  and  all  its  joys 
and  sorrows,  pleasures  and  pains,  all  its  chang- 
es are  buried  in  the  great  tomb  of  the  past  f 
How  many  he»,rts  have  been  filled  with  new 
joys  in  the  comrse  of  the  year  which  has  just 
closed?  how  many  have  been  broken?  how 
many  have  seen  the  dearest  hopes  blasted,  the 
fondest  anticipations  disappointed  ?  how  many 
have  gained  Heaven  ?  how  many  have  lost  it  ? 
and  now  all  is  over !  Eighteen  hundred  and 
fifty-six  will  be  heard  of  no  more,  except  in 
calling  up  scenes  of  joy  or  sorrow,  and  in 
weeping  over  ihe  irrevocable  past.  And  where 
are  its  moments,  hours,  days  and  months? 


18* 


^ 


160 


THB  YOUNO  G0NVBKT3. 


\^' 


Hard  is  this '  ^  answer  ;  we  can  only  know  it 
has  flown  as  others  have,  as  others  will.  Our 
object  should  be  to  employ  the  coming  time  as 
we  now  wish  we  had  the  past.  Another  year 
is  opening  upon  our  poor  earth.  Would  to 
God  it  might  bring  with  it  less  sorrow,  less 
sin ;  and  my  heart  is  whispering,  '  Do  thy 
share,  try  and  fulfill  Ihy  duties  and  there  will 
be  a  little  less.  Once  more,  here  are  good  re- 
Bolutip^s.  How  long  will  they  last  ?  No  mat- 
ter, I  can  keep  trying ;  and  if  there  is  no  g»<)od 
comes  of  them,  I  will  not  have  to  say  I  did  not 
make  an  effort.  A  long  year  to  look  forward 
to  ;  I  trust  ?ome  one  will  pray  for  me  that  it 
may  not  be  altogether  lost." 

"  Convent  op  ihe  Congbbgation,  St.  Eus- 
TACHB,  January  *lth^  1857 — My  dear  Mother : 
Your  long  letter  contained  much  pleasing  news. 
I  have  but  a  few  moments  more  to  write  before 
sending  my  letter  to  Helen.  I  am  hapj  to 
hear  you  are  all  so  well,  and  enjoying  your- 
selves so  much.  I  wish  you  a  happy  New 
Year,  and  all  at  home.  My  birthday  is  past, 
and  I  enjoyed  it  very  well  here  in  St.  Eue- 
tache.    It  being  Sunday,  I  attended  church 


TBB  TOUNO  CON  V  CRTS. 


151 


n 


morning  and  evening.  Helen  will  tell  you  of 
the  feast  the  day  before.  I  am  now  nineteen  t 
Getting  along  wonderfully  in  years ;  I  can 
hardly  realize  (time  goes  so  swiftly,)  that  I 
am  aomewhaJb  advanced  in  years.  However,  it 
is  60.  The  Misses  B —  you  speak  of,  I  think 
I  have  seen  one  of  them  once.  I  have  heard 
them  vei'y  lughly  spoken  of  by  Mrs.  S — ,  as 
well  as  their  brother.  Give  my  love  to  father ; 
tell  him  I  wish  him  a  very  happy  New  Year, 
and  the  greatest  blessings  with  it.  Give  my 
love  also  to  all  3iy  Mends.  Tell  E—  my  let- 
ter was  written  some  time  ago,  and  I  intended 
to  send  it,  but  forgot  itc  I  shall  write  again 
soon  and  a  longer  letter,  but  it  is  growing 
dark  and  I  must  stop  now.  S —  sends  her 
best  wishes  for  the  year.  Yours  affectionately, 
Debbie,  Enfant  de  Maine." 

Diary:  " Sunday,  Ja».  11th,  1857.  *  *  Have 
attended  church  as  usual ;  there  is  little  need 
of  saying  thi;^.  Since  I  am  a  CaitioliCy  I  believe 
I  generaUy  go  to  church  on  Sundays — some- 
what different  from  old  times,  when  I  used  to 
do  as  I  chose  about  such  matters.  '  A  change 
came  o'er  the  spirit  of  my  dream,'  or  I  might 


152 


THft  TOU»0  00NV«RT3. 


K. 


r  #. 


Bay,  /  (twdike  from  my  shmh^s,  and  now  I  &111 
under  blessed  obedience,  thank  God." 

"  CONVBNT  OP  THE  OONOREOATIOI^r,  St.  EuS* 

TAdHB, Vdt».  Wh,  1857— Jtf^  dear  Mother: 
Yotir^  letteria  from  home  were  received  with 
true  pleasure  yesterday.  I  was  sorry  to  hear 
that  yott  had  been  suffering  from  one  of  your 
headacheSj  but  I  trust  you  are  now  much  bet- 
ter. No  other  bad  news  was  to  be  found  in 
the  fi^  short  notes,  unless  the  loss  of  our 
State  Hoase,  by  fire,  be  mentioned.  I  had  not 
heard  of  it  before  your  note  arriTed.  *  »  *  * 
And  now,  for  news  at  home.  I  suppose  voa 
are  making  some  changes  from  what  you  say. 
I  shall  see  when  I  get  home.  Of  course,  I  am 
interested  in  them  all.  Father  sent  me  Word 
he  had  bought  a  new  span  of  horses.  It  wiU 
give  you  all  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  I  am 
sure ;  if  I  am  not  mistaken  you  will  make  good 
ui^  of  them.  Anna  wrote  me  that  sLe  and 
Heleii  were  going  to  Fairfax,  to  spend  a  week 
at  Mr.  B — *s,  of  course.  1  was  most  happy  to 
hear  liiat  their  coughs  were  so  mttch  better, 
and  hope  they  will  continue  so.  Have  you  had 
much  company  this  winter?  I  imagine  Fairfield 


THE  YOUNG  OONVBniS. 


153 


quite  pleasant  about  these  days.  You  haye 
had  some  pleasant  additions  to  j'oxa  society^ 
too.  Some  of  you  asked  how  I  spent  Ohris^ 
mas.  I  send  the  letter  1  wrote  to  Helen  at 
the  time,  and  did  not  send  it  for  some  reason 
now  forgotten.  I  hope  you  all  eiyoyed  your- 
selves. The  girls  wrote  to  me  about  their  * 
presents,  and  when  I,  go  to  Montreal  I  will 
look  for  mine  to  them.  I  do  not  know  how 
soon  that  will  be.  I  may  go  in  to  attend  a 
ceremony  some  time  this  month  ;  if  not,  then 
probably  not  until  Holy  Week.  I  find  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure  in  going  to  the  city,  but  I  am 
troubled  greatly  with  sleigh-sickness,  when  I 
ride  this  winter.  *  *  Ma  Tante  S —  is  .over 
any  other  way  than  pleasant.  They  laugh  at 
us  for  being  always  together.  *  *  *  The  other 
nun  here  says  we  save  her  a  great  deal  of 
trouble,  for  she  need  never  ask  but  one  what 
she  wii.  have,  or  what  she  would  like.  What 
one  has  the  other  must  have  ;  what  one  likes 
the  other  likes  also.  I  am  very  well.  Give  % 
my  love  to  father  ;  tell  him  I  am  happy  to 
hear  of  his  improvements  ;  hope  he  is  in  good 


K*-  I 


154 


TBI  YOUNO  GOMVBnTf. 


health.  Lot  me  ^  jor  soon  and  often .  Your  af- 
fectionate daughter  Debbib, Er^aaU de Marie" 

This  note  to  her  sister  Charlotte  aocomr 
panied  the  foregoing  letter. 

"Convent  op  tub  CoNORBOATiON—ifj^ 
dmr  little  Charlotte :  Your  letter  gave  me  the 
greatest  pleasure.  I  wish  you  would  write 
often.  I  heard  from  motlier  thai  you  could 
write  very  well,  before  your  letter  arrived,  and 
you  must  practice.  I  am  glad  your  pictures 
pleased  you ;  and  your  New  Year's  present 
from  father  and  mother.  You  could  not  have 
had  a  nicer  one,  in  yo?r  sister  Debbie's  es- 
timation. I  cannot  tell  you  much  which  will 
interest  you.  Only  know  you  are  often  thought 
of  by  me  every  day,  every  day  ;  and  when  I 
see  you  next  summer,  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
my  school,  my  friends,  and  my  adventures  at 

St.  Eustache.    Ma  Tante  S sends  love. 

Yours  truly,  Debbie,  Errant  de  Marie, 

"P.  S. — I  suppose  you  have  fine  drives  this 
winter  and  high  times.  Do  you  grow  as  fast 
as  ever  ?  If  so,  you  will  bo  quite  out  of  my 
remembrance." 


TRB  YOUNO  OONVERTS. 


155 


jl 


Diary :  "  Feb.  m,  1857— This  is  a  memora- 
ble day  for  mo.  Just  four  years  ago  this  morn- 
ing, I  saw  for  the  first  time  a  convent.  Many 
changes  in  many  things  since  that  time.  A 
real  God-Bend  being  sent  to  Montreal  1  When 
iriiall  I  be  able  to  appreciate,  as  I  should,  the 
privileges  I  received  there  ?  Feb.  M — Four* 
years  ago,  I  entered  as  a  scholar  the  convert 
at  Montreal.  How  changed  is  everything 
since  then  I  I  look  back  and  wonder  at  my 
sentiments.  I  tliink  of  my  first  night  there, 
and  my  first  visit  t^  a  Catholic  chapel.  How 
well  I  remember  the  hymns,  sung  to  the  Bless- 
ed Virgin,  the  statues  and  paintings,  altars 
and  crucifixes  that  Iiorrified  me  so  much.  How 
contented  I  felt  though,  in  spite  of  my  at- 
tempts to  look  on  the  dark  side  of  everything. 
How  calm  were  those  first  hours  in  my  con- 
vent home.  I  knew  not  why  my  heart  could 
not  find  anything  to  dislike,  although  it  tried. 
Trouble  only  came  when  dovbts  rushed  like 
torrents  upon  me ;  doubts  of  my  safety,  the 
safety  of  my  soul.  What  was  I  doing  to  gain 
Heaven?  Was  I  in  darkness  or  in  light? 
Alas  I   I  found  myself  going  on  like  one  blind 


u 


156 


THE   YOUNG   CONTERTS. 


without  a  guide  1  without  a  thought  of  the  pre- 
cipice, towards  which  I  was  hastening.  But 
these  things  have  made  that  spot  dearer  than 
life  to  me.  There  I  found  that  precious 
treasure,  without  which  time  is  long,  life  is  all 
dreariness  and  eternity  is  misery  without  a 
*Ao/)e  of  change.  *  *  ♦" 

"  St.  Eustachb,  Feb,  Vlth,  1857 .  My  Dear 
Mother— 1  received  your  letter  with  the  intel- 
lig(^^ce  of  your  sickness  ;  I  need  not  say  that 
I  am  most  happy  to  know  that  you  are  so  far 
recovered.  I  hope  you  will  continue  as  well 
as  you  arc  at  present.  Our  winter  has  been 
very  severe.  *  *  *  We  expect  to  go  to  Mon- 
treal in  about  two  weeks,  if  the  weather  la 
not  too  bad — when  we  have  more  saow  to 
give  us  some  sleighing.  Helen  has,  I  suppose, 
returned  from  Fairfax.  Has  had  a  pleasant 
time  undoubtedly,  and  Anna  also.  I  am  glad 
you  find  the  new-comers  so  pleasant,  and  hope 
they  will  remain  in  Fairfield.  *  *  *  I  suppose 

you  know  L J s  has  gone  to  Chicago. 

Her  father  is  again  married.  She  wrote  me  a 
few  days  ago  ;  is  very  well  contented,  and 
likes  the  city  so  far  as  she  knows  anything  of 


THE  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


J  57 


II 


it.  She  sent  her  love  to  you  all.  Your  girls 
have  left  you — Whom  have  you  now,  and  how 
do  you  like  them  ?  Grandmother  is  failing, 
you  say  ;  I  suppose  she  does  not  leave  her 
room.  Has  father  returned?  I  imagine  he 
is  gone  as  much  as  ever.  Give  my  love  to 
him.  I  should  be  most  happy  to  receive  the 
paper  he  spoke  of— hope  it  will  come.  My 
love  to  E ,  and  kiss  her  babe  for  me.  Re- 
member me  to  A S ,  and  any  one  who 


may  inquire. 


#  ♦  #" 


I  remain,  as  ever,  your 


affectionate   daughter,    Debbie  S.   Barlow, 
Enfant  de  Marie" 

"  March  Sth — My  Dear  Mother — ^Your  let- 
ter and  Helenas  were  received  yesterday,  and 
as  usual,  this  afternoon,  after  Vespers,  I  have 
time  to  answer  them.  I  am  glad  to  hear 
you  are  so  much  better.  *  *  *  *  We  are  hav- 
ing beautiful  weather,  after  a  series  of  stormy 
days.  I  have  had  a  cold,  but  have  now  recov- 
ered. Just  a  few  days  before  Lent  com- 
menced, the  nuns  made  me  take  a  good  dose 
of  castor  oUf  and  I  find  it  has  been  a  benefit  to 
me  ;  I  imagine  they  wish  me  to  eat  more  than 
usmil  during  the  fast  days.    I  am  quite  well 

14 


158 


TUB   YOUNO   CONVERTflk 


now,  and  every  tiling  goes  on  nicely.  I  went 
to  Montreal  last  week.  I  shall  not  go  again 
nutil  the  snow  goes  off,  for  I  was  terribly 
sleigh-sick,  both  going  and  coming  home.    I 

had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  S of  St, 

Albaps,  in  the  city.    I  had  been  out  doing  a 

little  shopping  for  Ma  Tanto  3 ,  and  when 

returning,  met  him  on  the  side-walk.  He  said^ 
he  saw  father  a  few  day?  before.  He  knew 
me,'  and  of  course,  I  knew  him.  Probably  he 
has  seen  some  of  you  since,  and  told  you.  I 
only  stay  ed  in  Montreal  one  night ;  had  but 
very  little  time  there,  and  felt  most  of  that  as 
I  do  after  being  on  a  boat.  I  am  glad  to  hear 
you  are  enjoying  yourselves  this  winter. 
Helen  seems  to  be  perfectly  well.  Of  this  I 
am  not  sorry  to  hoar,  and  she  seems  ta  be  en- 
joying the  winter  finely.    Is  A 6 — ^^ 

yet  married?  I  supposed  she  was  to  have 
been,  long  ago,  *  *  Everything  goes  on  the 

same  as  ever  at  the  missions.    S is  just 

as  kind  and  good  as  ever,  and  takes  care  of 

me   well.    Sister  is  always  pleasant, 

and  says  she  shall  learn  to  speak  English, 
qttarrelling  tvith  me!    She  does  not  under- 


THl  YOUNG   CON  VERM. 


169 


stand  our  language  very  well.  ■  It  is  some  time 
since  I  heard  from  the  younger  members  of 
our  family,  Anha,  Laura,  and  Charlotte.  Tell 
them  they  must  write  to  me.  *  ♦  ♦  ♦"  About 
the  time  this  letter  was  written,  we  were  fa- 
Tored-with  a  visit  from  dear  Helen.  Her 
presence  was  always  like  a  sunbeam  in  our 
shadowed  home ;  she  was  so  brilliant  and 
mirthful.  How  dearly  we  loved  the  graceful 
and  almost  pensive  serenity  of  our  contem- 
plative Debbie,  and  the  energetic,  active  ear- 
nestness of  the  practical  Anna,  will  be  known 
only  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  are  re- 
vealed ;  but  Helen,  our  aiveet  Helen,  nestled 
into  our  home  in  the  wilderness  like  a  bird 
that  was  native  there,  filling  the  echoing  for- 
ests with  the  melody  of  her  angelic  songs,  and 
enlivening  every  scene  with  the  gayety  of  her 
innocent  heart.  Dear  to  our  hearts  as  are 
the  memories  of  all  these  charming  sisters,  we 
still  linger  upon  those  connected  with  the 
*^  Urst  flown"  of  the  three,  with  tender  emo- 
tions gushing  up  from  abysses,  the  depths  of 
which  these  alone  have   the  power  to  stir, 


\  t 


:. 


160 


THE  YOUN«  CONVERTS. 


while  we  exclaim,  "  Oh,  Bden  was  our  beau* 
tiful,  our  lovely,  and  our  best  beloved  one  1" 

"St.  Eustache,  March  15  :  My  Bear  Ma- 
ther — ^My  things  came  yesterday  by  express. 
Your  taste  was  vory  good  in  selecting  them, 
and  all  suited.  Many,  mc.ny  thanks  for  all. 
I  wrote  you  a  few  days  since,  and  write  now 
merely  to  acknowledge  the  reception  of  the 
box,  *  *  I  hope  you  will  excuse  my  haste. 
I  re<;iBived  several  newspapers  with  the  box, 
and.  was  right  glad  to  get  them.  *  *  *" 
The  following  letter  from  Helen,  to  a  very 
dear  Av^ic,  was  written  about  this  time. 

"  Fairfield,  March  25th,  1857  :  My  Dear 
Aunt — ^Pardon  my  long  silence.  I  really  can 
not  give  any  good  reason  for  not  writing  be- 
fore, onlj  thit,  I  have  felt  so  little  inclined  to 
write.  All  my  correspondents  hare  been  ne- 
glected in  the  sam"  way,  and  they  have  good 
reason  to  complain.  Why  did  you  think,  my 
uear  Aunt,  that  I  was  not  happy  ?  Surely  / 
am,  I  think  I  can  safely  say  that  not  a  hap- 
pier heart  beats  in  human  breast  than  mine ; 
it  was  not  so  once.    I  have  known  what  it  w  as 


THB  TOUKO  CONVERTS. 

to-  be  iinha{^y.  For  long  years  I  sighed  for 
happiness,  and  conld  not  find  it.  There  was 
ati  aching  void  in  my  heart  that  even  the 
knowledge  that  I  was  beloved,  by  a  human  be 
ing  like  myself,  could  not  fill ;  and  what  will 
fill  the  human  heart  with 'pleasiure  like  the 
knowledge  of  being  beloved  ?  But  it  was  not 
human  love  I  sighed  for,  but  the  love  of  my 
God!  I  now  have  found  the  abiding  rest  for 
which  I  sighed  so  long,  ^nd  I  am  happy,  happy. 
Earth  hardly  fiWktisfies  my  longing  desires ;  only 
in  Heaven,  where /ai^A  is  turned  to  «igfA^,  can 
I  be  fully  satisfied.  Oh!  what  a  blessed  thing 
it  is  to  know  that  our  sins  are  washed  away  in 
the  all-atoning  Blood  of  our  Redeemer  I  Oh 
that  we  were  not  bound  down  to  earth  by  this 
load  of  flesh,  but  could  soar  far  above  it — 
and  the  sins  that  every  day  leave  a  stain  upon 
our  robe  of  baptismal  innooeiice — ^and  sing 
the  praises  of  our  Redeemer,  where  sin  can  no 
more  oloud  our  visions  of  his  brightness !  The 
heart  can  not  but  be  impatient,  yet  it  is  better 
for  us  to  remain  for  a  while,  that  God  may  be 
glorified  in  us,  for  we  will  conquer  Satan,  and 
God  shall  have  the  glory.    Trials  are  sent  to 

14* 


;^ 


162 


THE  TOUNO   CONVERTS. 


perfect  us — are  they  not,  Aunty  ?  Oh  1  that 
more  might  be  sent  me,  for  this  world  gives 
me  none,  and  I  shall  be  detained  long,  very 
long,  if  no  fire  is  sent  to  purify  m6  here. 
Sometimes  I  am  weary  struggling  against  temp- 
tations, and  then  I  know  God  is  displeased 
with  me  ;  therefore  He  deems  me  not  worthy  of 
those  trials  He  sends  to  those  He  loves.    *  ♦  " 

We   return  to  the  Diary  at  St.  Eustache. 

"dprU  m,  Holy  Thursday  :  Went  to  High 
Mass,  and  received  Holy  Communion.  At 
three  o'clock  we  went  to  visit  the  Blessed 
Sacrament,  and  remained  an  hour.  The  Re- 
pository looks  very  well.  In  the  evening  wo 
went  again  at  about  six  o'clock,  to  secure 
good  seats  for  the  evening  prayers.  We  were 
directly  in  front  of  the  altar,  and  had  arrived 
long  enough  before  the  time  appointed,  to  have 
a  full  half  hour,  quiet  and  undisturbed.  The 
stillness,  the  silent  few  who  were  paying  their 
adorations  to  Jesus  in  His  Sacrament  of  Love., 
the  dim  light  of  the  tapers,  and  the  thought 
which  kept  coming  to  my  heart,  that  my  God 
was  there  realty,  not  in  imagination,  but  truly 
present,  listening  to  the  petitions  of  His  crea- 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


163 


n 


tures,  made  me  feel  that  all  of  this  earth  was 
little  worth  our  love,  and  that  the  most  we 
could  do  for  H^m  was  nothing  iu  comparison 
with  His  great,  unlimited  lovd  for  us  ;  and  /, 
who  should  be,  the  whole  day  and  every  day, 
doing  something  in  return  for  His  graces^ 
often  forget  Him!     At  eleven  o'clock,  ma 

Tante  S awoke  me,  as  I  had  requested, 

and  we  went  to  the  chppel  to  remain  an  hour, 
in  commemoration  of  our  Saviour's  agony  in 
the  garden — the  first  time  I  have  ever  passed 
that  hour  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament." 
"  April  lOtJi.  Good  Friday  I  A  day  which  is 
ever  dearer  to  me  than  any  other  of  the  year 
can  be  I — one  in  which  I  love  to  spend  hours 
in  thinking  of  the  past,  in  bringing  to  mind 
my  first  thoughts  on  entering  a  Catholic 
chapel  on  that  day,  four  years  ago.  .  Why 
speak  ^f  it  now  ?  Meditation  is  more  suited 
to  ui)  reelings  than  words^  at  this  time  I" 

"  CONVBNT  OF  THE  CONGREGATION,  St.  EuS- 

TACHE,  April  VUh^  1857 — My  Dear  Father  : 
Tour  letter  was  received  yesterday,  and  I  need 
not  say  that  it  gave  me  the  greatest  imagina^ 
ble  pleasure.    It  was  almost  too  good  for  Lenty 


s 

^•<. 


IM 


» 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


but  to  have  left  it  until  to-day  would'  have* , 
been  too  great  a  sacrifice.  I  was  not  strong 
enough  for  that,  and  it  was  read  and  re-read 
with  a>  much  delight  as  if  it  had  been  one  of 
the  most  joyous  feasts  of  the  year,  instead  of 
Holy  Saturday.  To-day  I  could  not  fail  to 
aiiower  it.  Your  letter  was  unexpected, 
therefore  it  gave  me  a  great  surprise.  Your 
account  of  your  stay  in  Washington  was  veiT 
inte^iBsting.  I  noticed  in  particular  what  you 
said  in  regard  to  your  visit  at  Judge  Doug- 
las's ;  I  heard  he  had  married  a  young  Cath- 
olic lady  ;  I  am  glad  you  found  her  so  inter- 
esting.   Is  Uncle  • still  in  Washington  ? 

I  heard  of  him  in  Washington,  and  Aunt  — — 
with  him.,  about  the  time  of  the  Ina^jguration. 
I  have  heard  of  late  a  little  of  the  public  af- 
fairs at  home;  for  the  St.  Albans  Messenger 
has  arrived  regularly  for  the  last  few  weeks. 
I  had  thfc  pleasure  of  reading  the  Inaugural 
Address  of  Mr.  Buchrnan,  and  a  description 
of  the  4th  of  March  at  tha  Capitol,  in  a 
B'rench  paper  published  in  Montreal.  You- 
ask  how  I  am,  how  I  like,  etc.  My  health  is 
good  ;  I  have  never  been  better.    The  nuns 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERVS. 


165 


here  are  twe  excellent  persons.    S you 

knew  long  ago,  at  least  by  reputation.  I  am 
Rure  I  never  could  have  found  persons  more 
kind  than  they  are.  We  do  not  often  go  out 
to  call,  but  we  have  visits  from  the  first  fami- 
lies of  the  parish — and  there  is  some  very 
good  society  here,  I  assure  you.  I  find  the- 
French  exceedingly  pleasant  people,  and  very 
polite — great  talkers,  and  consequently  good 
company ;  much  gayer  than  the  Americans, 
but  seem  to  have  less  stability.  Upon  the 
whole,  I  like  them  extremely  well.  But  to  re- 
turn to  my  subject :  Speaking  of  the  nuns 
here,  I  find  the  situation  pleasant  in  every  re- 
spect, and  if  things  continue  the  same  after 
vacation,  I  would  like  to  return  in  September, 
since  you  desire  that  I  should  continue  French, 
and  I  desire  it  myself  also.  At  present,  I  un- 
derstand all  of  common  conversation,  and 

nearly  all  I  read.    S says  I  am  a  little 

proud  about  speaking,  before  her  at  least,  for 
she  speaks  both  languages  perfectly  well. 
However,  the  other  Sister  here  speaks  nothing 
but  French.  Afternoon  :  I  have  returned 
from  church,  and  think  I  shall  have  time,  be- 


iK«f 


:'^m-v 


166 


THl  TOUNG   CONVERTS* 


fore  Vespers,  to  f  nish  mv  letter.  To-day  is 
the  firBt  time  it  has  looked  qu'te  as  tl  oug h 
Spring  had  come.  ♦  •  ^  We  \my^  hati  * 
^  trango  winter,  so  chaiigojible ;  not  so  much 
moro  severe  then  others,  but  decidedlj' A'£'i«%. 
♦  *  Give nr love  t>  mother, and  all  at hom^ii. 
I  hope  to  it' ve  the  pleasure  of  hearing  again 


from  ym. 


■-'  r.l 


ior   could  not   give  me 


greater  joy.  And  now,  until  I  see  you,  ro- 
m'ftiiibei  that  my  thoughts  are  often  with  you  ; 
liot  a  day,  no,  perhaps  not  an  hour,  that  my 
best  wlolieg  ar^  not  spoken,  or,  at  least,  men- 
tally desired  for  your  welfare.  If  I  cannot 
do  anything  in  return  for  your  solicitude  for 
jBd  in  one  way,  perhaps  I  can  in  another.  Once 
more,  good-bye.  *  *  *  Your  affectionate 
child,  Debbie  S.  Barlow,  ^n/a/nt  de  Marie," 

**  GONGRIOATXON  OP  NOTSB  DaME,  St.  EUS- 

TACHB,  April  nth,  '57 — My  Dear  Mother-^ 
Tour  letter  has  just  been  received,  and  I  have 
dnly  to  say  in  reply  to  your  questions :  That 
gentleman  and  myself  are  no  more  than  friends. 
And  there  has  wet?e»*  been  any  engagement  e , 
isting.  Now  1 1  <^  told  you  this  man^  i^'*\'  . 
before,  and  tell  ;  .u  again  that +his  mi^y  t-nd 


:..»;. 


THE  YOUNO  C0NVBST8. 


167 


tho  raatter !  I  am  not  one  of  tho  persons  Iplio 
trouble  themselves  over  and  above  much  about 
8ach  matters  ;  this  you  must  know.  Whether 
I  shall  eyer  be  engaged  to  any  one  is  another 
question,  which  time  will  solve.  If  I  never  am^ 
you  may  rest  assured  I  shall  live  just  as  long 
and  be  quite  as  well  contented.  You  must 
know,  in  seeing  your  daughters  Catholics,  Ihat 
their  chances  are  few,  so  far  as  the  prospeoti 
of  this  world  cere  concerned  ;  but  do  not  im- 
agine they  are  discouraged  at  this.  Far  from 
it !  When  I  became  a  member  of  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  I  did  not  lose^l  gained,  I  lost  no- 
thing,  not  even  if  all  the  fondest  pleasures  of 
life  were  sacrlfice.d  ;  I  gained  wha.t  this  world 
can  never  give!  —  what  our.  holy  religion 
alone  can  bcdto-v.  I  Yes,  I  gained,  I  repeat  it, 
and  in  becoming  one  of  the  children  of  the* 
Chui;ph  of  Christ,  I  counted  everything  in  this 
world  as  mere  nothing  compared  with  the  priv* 
ileges  I  enjoy  ?s  9  Catiicr'c  Christian!  So  do 
not  fear  for  ,0  i  I  an*  n^t  sorry  for  anything  I 
have  don  or  have  had  to  do.  Yo  '  know  the 
Catholic  Ohnrch. /orbida  marriage  with  Pro- 
tc  sants,  and  T  am  most  happy  to  think  she 


f 


w  ■ 


k\?#» 


168 


THE  YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


Mb 

does.  Protestants  abhor  our  religion,  and  so 
we  are  equal.  You  seem  to  think  that  I  ani 
needed  at  home ;  I  shall  follow  the  will  of  God, 
which  seems  to  demand  I  should  spend  a  por- 
tion of  my  life  there  at  any  rate.  Do  not  give 
yourself  further  trouble. — I  am  a  reasonable 
person,  and  if  I  live  and  die  an  "  old  maid  "  at 
Fairfield,  I  shall  not  care.  I  expect  a  long 
time  will  see  me  there." 

*' 'Congregation  op  Notes  Dame,  St.  Eus- 
TACHE,  April  llthj  '57.  My  Dear  Mother— 1 
received  your  letter  containing  the  sad  intel- 
ligence of  grandmother's  death.  I  could  not 
feel  otherwise  than  that  it  was  better  so,  since 
she  has  been  so  long  failing  and  her  mind  so 
much  impaired.  Still  let  Death  come  when  it 
will,  and  where  it  may,  it  is  always  sad.  It 
gives  to  each  one  a  time  for  reflection,  and  a 
new  impulse  to  the  soul  to  prepare  and  be  al- 
ways ready,  for  even  if  we  reach  an  old  age, 
still  we  must  at  last  yield  to  i>eo^A  and  go. 
Earth  is  not  our  abiding  place  I  I  hope  fa- 
ther reached  home  in  time  for  the  funeral—did 
he  ?  At  last  Aunts  D—  and  L —  reached  hom^ 
before  her  death.     .  am  very  glad  of  it,  especi- 


THE   TOUN(;  CONVERTS. 


169 


[t 
a 


0. 

'a- 
d 


ally  OD  your  account.  I  shall  look  for  a  letter 
soon,  giving  more  of  tho  particulaxs.  Father 
wrote  me  while  in  Washington,  and  I  have  an- 
swered his  letter,  which  was  received  on  H(  ly 
Saturday.  He  will  regret  his  absence,  I  am 
sure,  at  this  time ;  however,  if  grandmother 
was  unconscious,  it  could  not  have  been  a 
great  consolation  to  have  seen  her.  Who  con* 
ducted  the  funeral  services? — that  is,  what 
clergyman  ?  Ani  the  friends, — ^were  there 
many  present?  I  presume  you  are  tired 
enough.  I  hope  you  will  not  get  sick.  S — 
sends  her  love,  and  condoles  with  you  m  your 
affliction.  Let  me  hear  soon  again.  *  *  *  " 
Diary :  "April  Wth. — This  morning  we  had 
Mass,  and  all  received  Holy  Oommiuiion.  A 
happy  day  again.  Tes  1  a  tlirice  happy  day  1 
It  seems  as  if  the  hour  spent  this  morning  vt'as 
80  short — passed  so  quickly  I  Oh,  my  God  I 
and  hast  Thou  been  here  in  my  heart  once 
more!  Yes  I  there  is  no  room  for  doubt! 
Faith,  blessed  faith,  teaches  us  this  :  that  He, 
our  Creator,  disdains  not  to  come  and  feed 
our  souls  wftli  lat  Heavenly  Bread  I  Yeg, 
He  comes  I-  -w  re  1  not  assured  oy  th  j  very 

16 


it*!" 


r^. 


no 


THE   YOUNC    CONVERTS. 


words  of  His  n.^  alli,  1  should  be  tempted  to 
think  He  could  not  have  loved  us  sol  but  why 
speak  ?  He  comes  !    Oh,  my  soul  I  in  such  a 
moment  as  this  what  canst  thou  "•»"  **    Canst 
thou  know  that  it  is  thy  Jesus  and   live? 
Cans^  thou  feel  that  He  is  so  near,  opening 
His  tr^^sures,  purifying  thee  from  the  stains 
of  fir,  pouring  His  graces  upon  thee,  and  re- 
main indifferent  ?    Canst  thou  know  that  He 
wh6  has  come  from  heaven,  has  been  made 
man,  has  suffered  and  died  upon  the  Cross 
for  love  of  thee,  and  now  crowns  all  by  com- 
ing to  take  up  His  abode  with  thee  ? — canst 
thou  know  aU  this,  and  not  feel  that  there  is 
no  pleasure  in  the  world  but  that  which  is 
found  in  His  service  ?     Can  my  heart  be  cold, 
when  I  have  Him,  who  is  all  love  for  me,  as 
its  guest  ?    Ah !  it  is  too  often  so !    Yes  I  my 
God,  how  often  do  I  approach  to  receive  Thee 
with  little  love,  with  perhaps  a  very  faint  de- 
sire of  possessing  Thee.    But  to  day  is  passed. 
I  have  had  the  happiness  c     eceiving  another 
visit  from  my  Redeemer  this  morning;  Oh! 
♦vould  that  I  might  keep  his  graces,  that  I 
might  live  one  day  without  willingly  offending 


THR   YOUNO    C0XVKRT8. 


in 


Him.  Alas  I  while  I  live,  I  am  always  in  dan- 
ger of  being  ungrateful  towards  my  God." 

^^May  Xat — The  anniversary  of  Helen's  bap- 
tism. One  year  ago  I  stood  beside  her  at  the 
Altar  and  saw  the  regeneratiug  waters  de- 
fceiid  upon  her.  Oh  1  what  a  joyous  day — ^but 
all  joy  is  mingled  with  sorrow  I  A  year  has 
passed,  and  to-day  I  am  far  separated  from 
that  dear  sister,  but  in  spirit  I  have  beeu  with 
her.  I  oflfered  my  Communion  yesterday  for 
Iier,  and  she  has  often  been  with  me  in  my  ac- 
w''ons  since.  I  am  sure  she  is  not  sad  to-day, 
'  en  thougli  the  sacrifice  has  been  great  which 
has  been  required  from  her ;  still  the  recom- 
penae  will  be  much  greater." 

About  tbi^  time,  a  rumor  began  to  circulate 
in  Vermont  that  Debbie  was  intending  to  be- 
come a  nun,  and  had  even  taken  some  prelimi- 
nary vow  in  that  direction.  Her  parents  were 
greatly  distressed  upon  hearing  this  report, 
and  caused  Helen  to  write  immediately,  inquir- 
ing of  her  as  to  its  truth.  In  reply  to  that 
letter,  she  sava : 

"  St.  Eustache,  May  lUh,  'SI^My  Dear 
Farenta — I  have  just  received  Helen's  letter. 


172 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


dated  the  12th,  and  am  somewhat  sarprised  to 
licar  that  yon  are  all  in  so  much  anxiety  about 
my  becoming  a  nun  I  When  I  left  home,  I 
gave  my  word  that  I  would  return  ;  my  inten- 
tion i8>not  otherwise  at  present.  I  have  made 
that  promise  j  it  will  be  fulfilled  perfectly.  I 
shall  be  at  home,  at  the  farthest,  the  last  week 
in  July  ;  I  give  my  word  for  it,  and  you  may 
expect  me  if  I  am  living,  and  when  there, 
shall  probably  remain  as  long  as  you  will 
want  me.  Every  one  seems  to  imagine  that  I 
am  in  great  haste.  I  wish  to  assure  you  that 
Mr.  —z — ,  of  whom  you  speak,  (or  rather  Helen 
does  in  her  letter,)  expects  nothing  else  than 
that  I  should  return  to  Vermont,  and  desires 
nothing  else  ;  therefore,  I  imagine  he  has  been 
far  from  spreading  any  such  reports  as  you 
have  heard.  I  am  very  well  and  very  con- 
tented, as  usual.  I  hope  you  are  all  in  good 
health  at  home.  I  received  the  money  father 
sent,  and  thank  him  very  much  for  it.  I  shall 
probably  go  to  Montreal  the  last  week  of  this 
month.  I  receive  the  St.  Albans  Messenger 
regularly.  It  has  just  come  with  Helen's  let- 
ter,   I  perceive  she  is  much  engaged  in  her 


THB   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


m 


school.  Do  not  let  her  get  sick,  for  when  I 
go  home,  I  shall  want  all  in  good  trim.  As  I 
suppose,  after  a  year's  absence,  the  news  will 
be  plenty ;  I  shall  wish  to  hear  all,  and  it  re* 
quires  some  one  who  talks  about  as  fast  as 
Helen  does,  to  toll  them.  My  love  to  all.  I 
hope  to  hear  soon  and  often.  Your  affection- 
ate  child,  Debbie  Barlow,  Enfant  de  Marie," 
Diary  :  "May  1*1  th  I  am  very  anxious  to 
hear  again  from  home,  for  I  am  in  constant 
dread  that  they  may  come  for  me.  I. begin  to 
feel  sad  to  think  vacations  are  near,  and  I 
must  again  leave  the  Convent  of  the  Congre- 
gation. I  shall  soon  wisli  to  be  back,  after 
my  return  home,  and  I  imagine  the  long  hours 
when  I  shall  sigh  for  the  happiness  of  convent 
life,  the  quiet  of  St.  Eustache,  and,  more  than 
all,  the  frequent  visits  to  Montreal.  It  is  said 
that  '  home  is  where  the  heart  is.'  I  know 
iwUf  then,  where  mine  is  ;  and  when  I  shall  be 
far  away,  my  thoughts  will  often  wander  back 
to  the  Congregation  of  Notre  Dame,  and 
there  find  their  resting-place.  Splendor 
speaks  in  vain  to  an  exile ;  and  pleasure, 
short-lived,  deceitful  pleasure,  relieves  but  for 


\f^ 


16* 


lU 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS 


■■'■Vw 


I 


an  inBtant  the  pain  of  banishment.  Amidst 
the  noise  and  bustle  of  ar  busy  world,  sur- 
rounded by  vanity  and  fading  joys,  his  heart 
turns  from  this  strange  land,  and  finds  its  hap- 
piness but  in  thoughts  of  Home  !  And  thus 
shall  I  feel  vrhen  once  more  I  leave  my  con^ 
vent  home.  I  have  already  experiehced  the 
pain  of  absence  from  that  loved  spot,  and  the 
second  time  will  be  worse  than  the  first*  But 
hopQ  on,  hope  ever  ;  there  may  be  an  end  of 
it  before  very  long  I  God's  will,  not  mine,  be 
done.  I  leave  cUl  things  in  His  hands,  and 
with  the  Blessed  Virgin  to  assist  mo,  all  must 
be  right." — It  may  be  proper  to  notice  here,  a 
feature,  npt  the  least  singular  among  tho»e 
which  characterized  her  remarkable  religions 
life,  that  with  all  her  yearning  fondness  and 
devoted  attachment  to  her  dear  "convent 
home"  and  its  holy  inmates,  she  never  felt  that 
she  was  destined  to  be  a  member  of  that  f&^ 
vored  community.  I  was  indeed  ver^  much 
surprised  in  the  course  of  the  first  conyersa- 
tion  T  had  with  her,  (some  months  after  the 
death  of  her  sister  Helen,)  upon  a  subject  so 
sacred,  that  it  should  be  approached  by  those 


THB  TOUNG  CONVERTS. 


175 


i| 


in  secular  life  with  the  greatest  reverence,  to 
find  that  while  she  felt  assured  of  her  voca- 
tion to  consecrate  her  life  at  some  future  pe- 
riod to  God,  it  was  also  clearly  indicated  to 
her  as  His  will  that,  (whatever  sacrifice  it 
might  cost  her,)  the  oblation  should  be  laid 
upon  the  altar  of  the  corporal  works  of 
Mercy,  in  her  own  country,  and  among  her 
own  people.  Knowing  nothing  whatever  of 
the  Slaters  of  Mercy,  their  rule  or  the  condi- 
tions of  entrance  into  the  Order,  she  still  felt 
herself  drawn  to  that  Institute,  and  desired 
to  partake  with  them  in  those  labors  which 
should  entitle  her  to  claim  a  share  also  in  that 
gracious  invitation  of  Him,  whom  alone  she 
desired  to  serve  in  His  poor,  "  Come  ye 
blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom 
prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the 
world.  For  I  was  hungry  and  you  gave  me 
meat ;  I  was  thirsty  and  you  gave  me  drink  ; 
I  was  a  stranger  and  you  took  me  in ;  naked 
and  you  clothed  me ;  I  was  sick,  and  you  vis- 
ited me  ;  I  was  in  prison,  and  you  came  unto 
me."  Although  He  did  not  permit  her  to  re- 
alize her  ardent  desire  in  this  world,  we  can- 


116 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


not  doubt  that  He  will  bestow  the  same  re- 
ward upon  her  in  another  for  her  pious  and 
sincere  intentions,  as  if  she  haJ  lived  to  fulfill 
them. 

The  letter  last  presented  to  the  reader  did 
not  prove  at  all  satisfactory  to  her  father,  who 
still  feared  she  entertained  intentions  which 
were  far  from  her  thoughts  at  that  time.  He, 
therefore,  wrote  to  her  himself,  requesting  an 
ex|^licit  and  decided  answer  to  his  questions. 
She  replied  : 

"  CONOREGATION  OF  NoTRE  DaME,  St.   EuS- 

TACHE,  May  2M,  1857 — My  Dear  Parents : 
I  have  just  received  the  answer  to  my  letter, 
and  am  somewhat  surprised  that  my  reply  to 
Helen's  last,  was  not  a  sufficient  assurance 
against  the  repdrts  tliat  are  circulating  in  Ver- 
mont. I  thought  I  was  plain  enotigh,  but  as  it 
seems  to  be  necessary,  I  will  write  again.  I 
cannot  see  why  you  should  put  so  much  de- 
pendence upon  what  you  hear.  I  have  never 
taken  any  votes,  and.  more  than  that,  never 
said  I  would,  to  any  living  being.  I  have  no 
<^^r  intention,  at  present,  than  that  which  I 
expressed  in  my  loyt  letter.     As  for  what  fu- 


THE   YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


in 


ture  years  may  bring  forth,  I  cannot  say,  nor 
any  one  else  ;  for  the  present,  you  may  con- 
tent, yourselves,  for  I  have  come  to  no  such 
decision  as  you  have  heard.  But  now,  since 
you  have  so  poor  an  opinion  of  my  truth,  and 
you  seem  to  think  that  this  defect  has  arisen 
in  my  character  since  I  have  embraced  the 
Catholic  faith,  I  wish  to  say  a  few  words.  I 
am  very  sorry  that  my  good  Father  has  this 
opinion  of  me,  but  I  would  much  prefer  him  to 
cast  the  slur  upon  me,  than  upon  the  Hdy  Re- 
ligion I  profess  ;  but  that  he  shall  not  have 
cause  to  complain  of  me  on  this  subject,  I  will 
repeat  what  I  have  often  said  at  home  ;  that 
is,  that  no  one  need  ever  expect  me  to  form 
any  engagement,  or  dream  that  1  will  ever 
enter  the  married  life  1  This  is  a  thing  long 
ago  settled, — 21.  fixed  determination,  which  is 
just  as  strong  now  as  ever.  *  *  *  My  resolu- 
tion you  have  often  heard.  I  suppose  there  is 
no  need  of  further  explanations.  I  have 
given  you  what  I  think  to  be  a  frank  answer 
to  your  questions,  and  regard  for  your  feelings 
has  been  my  principle.  Yes,  it  has  always 
been ;  and  what  pains  me  the  most  of  any- 


ITS 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS 


thing  in  tbis  world  is,  that  my  father  has  such 
an  opinion  of  me  as  to  think  I  would  afflict 
him  willingly.  If  he  could  know  how  I  felt, 
when  reading  his  letter — how  many  tears  of 
sorrow  I  have  shed  over  the  thought  that  he 
believes  me  fieartJeas,  he  would  not  repeat  the . 
assertion !  I  think  I  have  given  him  sufficient 
proofs  that  I  respect  his  commands,  that  I  love 
to  do  all  that  he  can  desire,  when  it  does  not 
go  contrary  to  my  first  duty,  which  is  to  my 
God!  And  he  should  know  that  on  this 
earth,  my  affections  are  for  my  parents.  I 
have  none,  I  shall  never  have  any  one  before 
them.  I  need  not  repeat  these  words — they 
are  only  too  familiar  to  you  now.  I  hope  you 
will  cease  to  be  uneasy,  and  believe  me  to  be 
happy  and  contented.  Your  affectionate 
child,  M.  D.  Bablow,  Enfant  de  Marie" 

The  only  communication  we  have  from  her, 
during  the  remainder  of  her  stay  at  St.  Eus- 
tache,  is  the  following  letter :  "  Congregation 
OP  Notre  Dame,  St.  Eustache,  June  7, 1867. 
My  Dear  Mother—Yours  was  received  yes- 
terday morning.  It  gave  me  much  pleasure 
to  hear  that  you  were  all  well.    I  hope  Helen 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


119 


-will  not  get  sick  with  her  cold.  I  imagine  the 
weather  in  Vermont  has  been  something  like 
ours  here.  In  fact  we  have  had  but  one  or 
two  wann  days,  and  at  present  it  is  quite  cold. 
If  warm  weather  does  not  come  faster  than 
this,  I  shall  not  feel  it  much.  *  *  *  I  sup- 
pose you  have  plenty  to  do,  as  usual.  I  im- 
agine I  see  you  somet'mes  in  the  garden.  S— 
has  a  fondness  for  flowers  equal  to  yours,  and 
her  pupils  have  been  bringing  any  quantities 
to  her  all  the  Spring.  When  she  has  a  mo- 
ment's time  she  is  sure  to  be  weeding  or  at- 
tending to  her  plants  in  some  way.  You  have 
not  sent  me  any  word  about  your  garden.  I 
am  not  able  to  tell  you  yet  exactly  what  time 
I  shall  be  home,  for  the  day  of  our  examina- 
tion is  not  yet  fixed.  1  do  not  think  the  warm 
weather  will  affect  me  much — I  am  so  well 
now,  and  there  are  onlv  about  si^  weeks  be- 
fore  the  close  of  school.  At  present  we  are 
preparing  for  our  examinations,  and  of  course 
all  in  a  hurry.  The  young  ladies  here  are  pre- 
paring two  Dramas  to  be  acted,  one  in  Eng- 
lish, and  the  ofcher  in  French.  The  former  I 
have  the  care  of  exercising,  of  course.     It  is 


180 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


not  very  long,  and  they  learn  it  pretty  well  for 
children  who  are  only  studying  English.  The 
Prench  piece  is  very  beautiful.  When  the 
programme  is  made  out  I  will  send  you  one. 
That  will  be  before  long.  We  have  about 
forty  children  now — that  is,  ma  Tante  S- — 's 

class— and  Sister  L- has  about  the  same 

number.  The  Congregation  has  two  hundred 
and  four  professed  nuns,  and  they  have  so 
much  to  do  that  it  is  impossible  to  have  three 
on  this  mission.  The  novices  number  'over 
twenty,  and  not  one-third  of  them  are  at  the 
community — all  on  missions ;  and  those  who 
are  making  their  first  year's  noviciate,  number- 
ing over  thirty,  are  most  of  them  in  the  sub- 
urbs of  Montreal  teaching  the  poor.    Sister 

L- scolds  a  good  deal  to  think  she  cannot 

get  another  to  assist  her  ;  but  she  does  not 
effect  much  by  it.  I  have  no  more  time  to 
write.  Give  my  love  to  father  and  the  chil- 
dren. Your  true  Debbie,  Etrfant  de  Mmie.'' 
At  the  close  of  the  examinations  at  St.  Eus- 
tache,  in  the  latter  part  of  July,  1857,  Debbie 
went  with  her  beloved  "  Tante"  to  Montreal, 
where  they  met  the  father  of  that  lady,  who 


THE  YODNG  CONVERTS. 


181 


had  ccme  to  take  the  young  sister  (mentioned 
by  Debbie  in  her  letters  as  a  pupil  of  the 
institution,  and  who  has  since  become  a  mem- 
ber of  that  holy  Order,)  home  for  the  vaca- 
tion.    He  urged  Debbie  with  such  cordial 
politeness  to  accompany  his  daughter  and  him- 
self to  Quebec  for  a  visit,  that  he  succeeded 
in  overruling  the  hesitation  she  felt  at  first, 
but  her  parents  might  be  unpleasantly  disap- 
pointed by  this  further  delay  of  her  rettirn 
home.    She  therefore  wrote  to  them  explain- 
ing the  cause  of  that  delay,  and  accepted  the 
invitation.    She  felt  herself  bound  to  the  kin- 
dred of  one,  to  whom  she  owed  so  much  as  a 
Catholic,  by  f  i-  stronger  ties  than  those  of  or- 
dinary friendship.    7  wo  weeks  were  passed 
most  agreeably  in  the  pleasant  family  of  that 
friend,  during  which  she  received  every  atten- 
tion from  its  whole  circle  that  affection  and 
admiration  could   prompt.    She    always   re- 
curred with  grateful  pleasure  to  the  recollec- 
tions connected  with  that  visit,  and  the  con- 
sideration and  regard  with  which  she  was 
treated  by   all.     They,  on  their  part,  were 
charmed  with  their  lovely  guest,  and  have  ever 


16 


182 


THE   TOUNG    CONVERTS. 


remembered  her  with  sentiments  of  affectionate 
esteem,  bordering  upon  veneration,  for  the  sur- 
passing loveliness  of  her  Jxi  iracter,  person  and 
manners.  She  was  also  very  much  admired  in 
Quebec  beyond  that  family  circle,  as  well  as 
in  the  other  parts  of  Canada  where  she  was 
seen,  and  had  not  her  irrevocable,  choice  as  to 
her  future  state  of  life  been  made  knowii,  she 
would  not  have  lacked  numerous  opportunities 
for  establishing  herself,  (in  a  worldly  point  of 
view,)  in  the  most  desirable  position.  About 
a  month  after  her  return  from  St.  Eustache,  we 
received  another  visit  from  her  and  her  sister 
Helen,  whose  health  was  beginnirig  to  exhibit 
symptoms  that  awakened  the  most  lively  ap- 
prehensions in  our  hearts,  as  well  as  in  that  of 
her  sister,  on  her  account.  Indeed,  among  the 
most  touching  of  our  cherished  memories  of 
the  sisters,  are  those  of  the  solicitude,  (more 
maternal  thatf  sisterly,)  which  Debbie  con- 
stantly manifested  for  her  precious  Helen,  and 
the  loving  appreciation  with  which  they  were 
received,  while  the  roceptance  of  them  was 
always  marked  by  some  mischievous  drollery 
or  merry  conceit  on  the  part  of  the  recipient 


THifi   YOUNG  {a  •;  J-ERTS. 


183 


which  was  all  hi*  own.  Their  natures,  dis- 
tinctly marked  by  o  jposite  attributes  and  wide 
diversiiies  of  temperament,  seemed  to  fc3  drawn 
into  still  closer  union  by  those  very  contiasts. 
The  isolated  position  in  which  they  stood, 
bound  so  lovingl"  together  by  the  golden  links 
of  the  Cat',  lie  faith,  made  the  thought  of 
their  possible  separation  by  death  even  more 
painful  to  th*  ir  Catholic  friends,  to  whom  they 
were  inexpressibly  dear,  than  to  themselves — 
so  well  had  they  learned  at  that  early  ^^'^riod 
of  life,  by  the  aid  of  peculiar  trials,  the  diffi- 
cult lesson  of  perfect  conformity  to  the  will 

• 

of  Go  J,'  which  is  rarely  acquired  durii  the 
varied  experiences  of  a  long  life.  We  liaa  ^  'Ut 
just  entered  upon  the  enjoyment  of  theii  visit, 
when  a  distresssing  accident,  which  befell  a 
member  of  our  family  interrupted  the  pleasure, 
and  was  the  means  of  hastening  their  a^par- 
ture.  They  left  us,  however,  wiii  the  promise 
of  an  early  return  to  finish  the  visit.  It  would 
have  been  a  jiorrowful  parting  indeed  for  as, 
if  we  had  known  that  the  promise  was  des- 
tined never  to  be  fulfilled,  and  their  presence 
together,  (in  consequence  ef  changes  in  our  do- 


184 


THB    YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


mest'c  arrangements,  which  brought  a  large 
accession  to  the  numbers  of  our  household,  for 
that  year,)  was  never  again  to  enliven  our 
solitudes.  The  following  extract  from  a  letter, 
written  by  Debbie,  to  a  young  friend  from  the 
southern  part  of  the  State,  (then  attending 
school  in  Burlington,)  whose  recent  conver- 
sion had  filled  the  hearts  of  Catholics  with 
joy,  will,  I  am ,  sure,  be  interesting  to  our 
readers : 

"Fairfield,  October  ilth,  1857. — Sunday 
Evening.  3Ji;  Dear  Miss — My  Sister  Helen 
has  teased  i<;  to  night  until  I  have  promised 
to  write  to  josi  before  I  go  to  sleep.  I  had 
intended  to  do  so  myself,  but  not  being  very 
well,  had  given  it  up.  Although  our  acquaint- 
ance has  been  so  very  short,  still  the  interest 
is  as  great,  which  we  feel  for  you  and  your  sis- 
ter, as  though  we  had  been  friends  for  years. 
And  why  should  it  not  be  so  ?  Called  as  we 
have  been,  so  similarly  to  the  Catholic  faith, 
alo^e  as  we  are,  the  oldest  of  our  familiei — 
WG  can  not  but  feel  drawn  to  sympathize  with 
one  another.  I  have  long  desiied  to  meet  and 
know  both  yourself  and  your  estimable  sister 


THE  YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


185 


whom  I  iiavG  heard  spoken  of  so  frequently. 
I  have  learned  to  look  to  my  Catholic  "riends 
for  pleasure,  and  may  I  not  number  yoi  •? 

them?    *  *  *    The  heart  yearn?  mes 

for  some  one  with  whom  something  eidc  te 

spoken  of  beside  the  vanities  of  this  world. 
To-day  I  heard  a  sermon  which  made  me  think 
of  you  as  well  as  myself.  It  was  on  *  Thanks: 
giving  for  the  Gift  of  Faith.'  Truly  we  are 
among  the  number  who  have  reason  to  be 
thankful  to  Almighty  God  i  *  *  *  We  can- 
not speak  half  we  feel  1  Of  our  heart's  senti- 
ments we  have  to  keep  the  greater  share  to 
ourselver  ;  for  can  we  speak  when  the  soul  is 
most  absOibed  in  the  one  great  theme — Jesus 
our  Bdoved  ?  Still  we  can  help  each  other  in 
our  bearing  of  His  Cross,  and  the  encouraging 
word  of  a  friend  in  the  trials  of  this  life  arc 
like  balm  upon  the  wounded  spirit.  The  hand 
of  Charity,  given  to  assist  us  in  our  journey 
through  this  vale  of  tears,  is  ever  welcome. 
Then  we  will  be  friends — will  we  not  ?  Let 
our  prayers  be  united  for  the  conversion  of 
those  near  and  dear  to  us,  and  for  our  perse- 
verance.    Give  my  love  to  your  sister  ;  send 

16* 


<^, 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


11.25 


I^|2j8  12.5 
ut  WL  12.2 
|,^|2£ 

WWi- 

IMli4 


^ 


^%. 


^1^   ■^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


^ 


23  WiST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  145*0 

(716)873-4503 


^4S 


0 


186 


THE    TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


♦t» 


my  letter  to  her  if  you  choose.  I  should  be 
most  happy  to  hear  from  her  if  she  will  faror 
me  80  much.  Heleu  sends  love.  *  *  She 
will  write  when  she  is  able.  Let  us  hear  from 
you  very  soon.  We  should  be  so  delighted ! 
Bemcmber  us  in  your  fervent  prayers."  *  * 
She  writes  again  to  the  same  friend : 
"  Fairfield,  Nov.  13, 1867.  My  very  Dear 
Friend — I  need  not  assure  you  that  your  re- 
ply to  my  letter  received  a  most  hearty  wel- 
come, from  both  my  sister  and  myself;  firstly, 
from  the  fact  of  our  regard  for  the  writer ; 
and  secondly,  the  very  pleasing  news  which 
the  letter  contained — that  of  your  sister's  bap- 
tism. Yes !  I  can  rejoice  with  you  over  the 
entrance  of  a  scul  so  dear  to  you  into  the  fold 
of  Jesus  Christ.  ♦  *  I  have  joined  with 
you  all  in  thanksgiving  for  the  gift  of  Faith 
which  has  been  bestowed  upbn  her  while  yet 
so  young.  You  may  well  say,  it  would  be  a 
happy  thing  could  she  die  before  sin  had  sul- 
lied her  baptismal  robe  1  And  yet,  if  so  it 
could  be,  no  occaeion  would  she  have  had  to 
prove  her  love  for  our  dearest  Lord.  *  * 
Life  is  not  so  dark  as  we  often  feel  it  is,  if  we 


THE   TOUKG   CONVERTS. 


18T 


only  spent  it  in  working  for  Him  who  has 
done  so  much  for  us!  True  there  is  always 
sin  in  this  poor  world,  and  this  almost  tempts 
me  to  wish  I  had  died  in  some  happy  hour 
when  my  soul  was  in  a  ptate  of  grace ;  but 
then  the  thought  comes  to  me,  I  must  not  be 
lazy,  Jesus  desires  us  to  work  awhile  here, 
and,  though  poor  laborers,  we  surely  can  not 
refuse  the  little  we  can  do.  However,  I  think 
he  favors  those  whom  He  calls  to  an  early 
home.  They  seem  to  be  pure  souls,  whom  He 
can  not  bear  to  see  remaining  here  to  suffer. 
But  to  return  to  your  sister  J. :  give  my  love 
to  her,  and  tell  her  that  I  shall  expect  a  share 
in  her  prayers,  *  *  *  I,  too,  my  dear  friend, 
have  seen  a  beloved  sister  received  into  our 
Holy  Church.  It  was  one  of  the  happiest 
days  of  my  life,  and  the  hour  when  I  saw  her 
r^ounce  the  world  and  its  vain  joys,  I  could 
not  but  recall  the  same  time  in  my  own  life, 
.  and  live  it  over  again.  *  *  Time  passes  away 
and  I  am  little  aware  that  nearly  two  years 
have  elapsed  since  I  made  my  profession  of  the 
Catholic  Faith  I  I  am  still  finding  new  beau- 
ties, and  so  I  suppose  we  always  shall.    In 


188 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


thanksgiving  for  the  great  blessings  we  have 
received,  what  coM  we  do  too  much  ?  I  am 
writing  while  Helen  sleeps.  She  has  not 
been  as  well  for  the  past  few  weeks.  I  am 
somewhat  discouraged  about  her.  Her  cough 
is  very  troublesome,  and  many  of  her  symp- 
toms are  worse.  Her  spirits  are  always  gay. 
She  sends  love  to  you  and  your  sister  also." 

Helen's  health  continued  to  decline  during 
the  succeeding  winter,  though  so  gradually  as 
hardly  to  be  perceptible  from  week  to  week. 
In  the  early  part  of  that  winter,  their  friends 
had  decided  upon  their  accompanying  some 
acquaintances  who  were  expectinjp"  to  pass  that 
season  in  Florida,  and  every  pr  ation  and 
arrangement  was  made  for  their  departure. 
Subsequent  and  unforeseen  occurrences  com- 
pelled those  acquaintvoces  to  relinquish  the 
plan,  and  they  also  gave  it  up  much  to  Helen's 
relief,  for  she  had  regarded  it  with -reluctance 
from  the  first.  She  seemed  to  feel  quite  sure 
that  the  disease,  which  was  upon  her,  had  al- 
ready advanced  too  far  to  be  arrested  by  any 
change  of  climate,  and  that  she  should  be  sub- 
jected to  much  fatigue  and  many  discomforts 


THB  TOCNO  CONVERTS. 


189 


withoat  realizing  any  permanent  beneftt,  vhieh 
was,  perhaps,  a  just  view  of  the  matter.  Our 
poor  Pebbie  felt  keenly  the  pangs  of  their 
approaching  separation.  She  wrote  but  little 
during  the  winter — an  occasional  short  note 
to  her  friends  at  St.  Eustache,  or  to  some 
other  friend,  informing  them  of  Helen's  condi* 
tion,  from  time  to  time.  In  March,  1858,  she 
writes  to  the  former  from  Fairfield  : 

"  Ky  heart  would  fain  fly  away  from  here» 
and  be  with  those  who  seem,  as  it  were,  kin* 
dred  spirits.  I  am  ill  at  ease  with  those  who 
understand  me  not.  But,  hu^h !  I  must  not 
complain.  I  should  not  raise  this  yoioe  against 
what  seems  to  be  the  will  of  my  Divine  Sa- 
viour 1  and  I  did  not  intend  to — Heaven  for- 
Md!  I  only  speak  from  the  fullness  of  my 
h^rt,  knowing  to  whom  I  am  addreasing  my- 
self. You  know, '  Out  of  the  abundance  of  th^ 
heart  the  mouth  speaketh ;'  and  so  I  write  ix^ 
9ia  Tan^  S-— • .  You  compliment  me  in  your 
last  letter  ;  shall  I  tell  you  how  ?  You  say 
y(m  "  feel  certain  that  God  loves  me  f  so  do 
HIp  Ify  crosses,  though  small,  are  sufficient  to 
prove  to  pe  that  my  Heavenly  Father  remem- 


190 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS 


bers  me.  The  '  back  is  fitted  for  its  burthen/ 
you  know,  and  I  am  certain  I  shall  have  none 
too  much.  Since  I  have  chosen  Jesus  for  my 
guide,  my  love  and  my  model,  I  cannot  shrink 
from  the  Cross  which  He  presents — ^from  the 
path  He  has  trod  Himself;  besides,  is  there 
80  consoling  a  thought  as  that  God  "  loveth 
whom  He  chasteneth?''  This  is  my  consola- 
tion and  it  is  sufficient.  1  have  been  to  St. 
Atkbans  and  seen  our  good  Bishop  —  had  a 
pleasant  conversation  with  him  which  cheered 
me  very  much.  His  cheerfulness,  his  smile 
of  approbation,  and  his  blessing,  are  enough 

to  encourage  any  one.    Saw  Sister  C also 

while  at  St.  Albans — ^felt  like  a  chUd,  The 
pasl  came  up,  and  in  one  moment  I  lived  it  all 
over  again!  I  saw  at  a  glance  the  enjoy- 
ments of  the  few  months  I  had  spent  at  the 
convent ;  I  felt  that  I  would  give  worlds  to 
lose  sight  forever  of  the  weary  scenes  of  life, 
and,  leaving  all,  be  consecrated  to  the  only 
Object  worthy  of  love !  These  thoughts  fill- 
ing my  mind,  and  the  warm  welcome — the 
words  of  sympathy — which  she  gave  me,  were 
too  much  I    I  went  from  the  house,  and  en- 


THB  YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


191 


tering  the  church,  wept  until  my  heart%as  re- 
lieved in  the  presence  of  the  Bles&od  Sacra- 
ment I  It  was  Thursday  evening,  and  some 
preparations  were  making  for  Benediction. 
The  "  Tantum  Ergo"  came  over  me  with  its 
usual  calm  influence,  and  soon  my  soul  was 
soothed  to  peacdfulnessi  I  no  more  looked 
upon  the  darkness  and  affliction  of  my  pres- 
ent hours,  but,  forgetting  all,  I  could  look  to 
Heaven  and  return  thanks  for  the  blessings 
received — the  great  gift  of  Faith  1  for  which 
we  can  rtever  be  thankful  enough.  As  the 
"Compar  ait  Laudatio"  died  away,  and  the 
silence  rendered  the  scene  more  impressive 
still,  I  felt  tlie  load  removed,  and  after  the 
Benediction  was  given,  all  was  over!  The 
tears  fell  fast,  but  they  were  tears  of  joy 
rather  than  sorrow.  Was  it  not  enough  to 
make  me  feel  submission  to  the  Divine  will  ? 
to  make  me  come  and  accept  cheerfully  the 
crosses  and  trials  of  this  life  ?  Ah  yes !  one 
hour  in  the  presence  of  Him  we  love — one 
Benediction,  is  sufficient  to  pay  us  for  all  our 
sufferings !  Oh  !  ma  Tante,  I  could  speak  of 
Uiese  things  forever — could  you  not  ?  -  The 


102 


THE   YOUNO   CONVEHTS. 


love  of^  Jesus  for  man ! — Is  it  not  a  talc  often 
told,  but  never  tiresome  ? — always  new,  and 
each  tindB  more  beautiful  I " 

To  the  same  :  "  Fairfield,  April,  1868.  *  ♦ 
Passed  Holy  Week  with  Helen  at  St.  Albans, 
at  Mr.  Hoyt's  :  enjoyed  it  very  much,  though 
Helen-was  able  to  go  oat  but  very  little.  She 
went  to  Mass  on  Holy  Thursda^y,  but  not  until 
after  the  Credo  was  sung,  when  Mr.  Hoyt 
went  and  brought  her  over  to  the  church. 
She  received  Holy  Communion  on  Easter 
Sunday.  I  went  with  her  about  half-past 
seven  o^  dock  in  the  morning ;  in  fact  she 
was  hardly  able,  but  wotdd  go,  and  said  in  so 
doing:  "It  is  my  last  Easter  Communion, 
and  perhaps,  Debbie,  the  Icisf  time  tve  shall  go 
together  J^'  Dear  &ister,  she  is  fast  going  Aowie, 
and  she  is  so  lovdy  /—every  one  spjeaks  of  it. 
She  is  the  very  same  Helen  as  far  as  gayety 
is  concerned,  and  so  hctppy,  so  pectceful,  so  pet- 
fecdy  resigned  to  the  will  of  Godl  It  has 
always  been  her  favorite  virtue,  resignati&iij 
she  says,  whatever  she  may  have  doiie,  she  has 
always  endeavored  to  say  under  dU  circtfii- 
stances, '  God's  will  be  idone  I'  and  truly  she 


THE   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


193 


Iti&n  } 
Uhas 
rctfin- 


is  not  les3  ready  now  than  ever  to  repeat  It 
*  *  *  She  is  fading  gradually  away,  like  some 
beautiful  flower.  From  day  to  day  I  watch 
the  change,  and  think  truly  she  is  too  good 
for  earth.  She  suffers  more  than  many  in 
consumption,  but  is  always  'patient.  *  *  *"  I 
will  now  give  extracts  from  some  letters  to 
her  young  friend  at  Burlington,  who,  has  been 
introduced  in  the  preceding  pages. 

"Fairfield,  AprU  Wth^  1858.  My  Dear 
Friend —  *  *  *  was  very  thankful  for  your 
kindness  in  writing ;  and  hope  to  hear  from 
you  still  oftener.  Your  letter  brought  wel- 
come news.  I  want  to  know  how  you  manage 
to  gain  your  father's  good  will  as  you  do.  It 
seems  so  singular  that  he  should  allow  ;,  ;  ir 
sisters  to  be  baptized.  I  do  not  understand 
it.  But  oar  Divine  Lord  sees  fit  so  to  havo 
it ;  and  I  cannot  complain  if  He  deals  another 
way  with  us.  I  congratulate  you,  and  your 
good  sisters,  and  begin  to  think  your  prayers 
are  more  fervent  than  mine,  and  that  I  shall 
enjoy  some  of  those  blessed  privileges  when  I 
am  better  myself.  *  *  *  *  Our  dear  Helen 
is  failing.  •  •  •  Truly  she  will  gain  in  leav- 


194 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTi. 


ing  this  poor  world !  I  can  hardly  imagine 
she  is  to  go  so  8oon,  but  I  must  give  her  up. 
She  has  been  my  companion  in  joy  and  in  sor- 
row. She  has  stood  by  me  through  the  varied 
scenes  of  the  past  few  years,  and  it  is  hard  to 
think  I  must  be  separated  from  her,  but  God'fli 
will  be  done !  Ho  knows  what  is  best  and  I 
cannot  murmur.  It  will  be  but  a  few  short 
days,  and  I  trust,  we  shall  be  united  whore 
partings  are  never  known  I  My  heart  was 
sad  this  morning.  I  went  to  receive  the  Bread 
of  Life,  and  she  was  not  with  me.  Last  Sun- 
day we  both  went,  and  she  remarked,  "  this  is 
probaUy  the  last  time  we  shall  go  together.'' 
She  said,  she  felt  sensibly  that  she  was  fail)^. 
*  *  *  She  ia  happy,  Q.ndl  tr.ust  we  shtdl  be 
resigned.    I  will  remember  you  ipr^jpo^jpray- 

ers,  and  the  church  in  0^ ,  aad  ii^.  return 

you  must  pray  for  us  here.  ***"'- 

To  the  same  :  "  Fairfield,  jfa^  2(i,4858r— 
Sunday  Evening — My  kind  and  lov$tl  Friend 
-—While  I  write,^  you  undoubtedly:  are  prcisent 
at  the  Evening  Office  of  the  church,  and  I  l^t 
your  thoughts  turn  to  me  once  in  a  whilf,;if^d 
you  breathe  a  silent  prayer  for  my  perJfuue- 


TRI  VOUNO   CONVE 


ij^. 


195 


V. 


ranee.  While  you,  my  dear  friend,  are  thus  en- 
gaged, while  the  sounds  of  earthly  music  are 
bringing  to  your  soul  sweet  thoughts  of  the 
celestial  choirs,  /  am  joining  you  in  spirit, 
though  absent  in  body.  I  have  read  my  Ves- 
pers, and  am  quietly  seated  in  my  room  writ* 
ing  to  you  ;  and  as  I  proceed,  the  happy  emo- 
tions of  my  heart  seem  to  wish  utterance.  I 
am  thinking  of  you  and  me^f  the  mysterious 
love  of  our  God  in  calling  us  to  such  an  in- 
heritance as  He  has.  »  ♦  ♦  ♦  I  have  been 
listening  to  some  conversation  with  regard  to 
the  great  eocdtemenJt  throughout  our  country, 
termed  a  '  rdigiaua  awakening  ;*  and  more 
than  -ever,  it  seems  to  me,  I  have  returned 
thanks  to  our  Heavenly  Father  for  the  gift  of 
faith  lAll^.  He  has  bestowed  upon  me.  These 
'ProtesmA  *  Eevivd'^^  have  brought  very  forci- 
bly to  m^  mind,  the  unspeakable  blessings  we 
have  recmed  in  being  rescued  from  such  delu- 
sions, and  admitted  into  the  Church  of  Jesus 
Christ.  And  why  us  more  than  others  ?^  This 
is  a  question  I  often  ask.  But  we  know  not ; 
we  only  know  it  was  a  grace  given  us  of  God's 
own'free  mercy,  and  not  from  any  merit  of  our 


IM 


TBI   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


own ;  for  wo  hardly  wished  for  the  gift  at 
first,  but  He  drew  us  by  His  love  and  gave  it 
to  us  almost  without  our  asking  it.  *  *  *  The 
Month  of  Mary  is  just  commencing.  I  suppose 
there  are  services  in  the  church  in  Burlington. 
I  had  the  happiness  of  being  in  St.  Albans  to 
commence  the  month,  and  received  Holy  Com- 
munion there  yesterday  morning.  *  *  *  As 
for  myself,  I  must  be  content  with  reading  my 
meditations,  and  saying  my  prayers  for  this 
month  pretty  much  alone.    I  suppose  your 

sister  S is  much  more  lonely  in  0 

than  we  are  here,  and  when  I  am  tempted  to 
complain,  she  rises  up  to  condemn  me,  and  I 
am  silent,  Helen  has  been  more  comfortable 
for  the  past  week.  Perhaps  it  is  nothing  last- 
ing— I  dare  not  hope  too  much.  *  *  *  I  thank 
you  for  your  words  of  consolation,  and  should 
know  from  your  letter  that  you  tridy  sympa- 
thize with  us.  ''^  ^  Helen  and  Anna  join  in 
much  love  to  you  and  your  sisters.  *  *  *" 
About  three  months  later  she  wrote  to  her 
friend  at  St.  Eustache : 

"  Faibpield,  July  2m,  1858—  *  *  *  Since 
I  wrote  you  last  Helen  has  failed  considerably. 


.'•* 


u 


TBI  TOUNO  CONVEirra. 


19t 


n 


Sho  continues  very  cheerful  all  the  time  and 
seems  to  have  no  fear  of  death.  She  receives 
the  sacraments  every  week  now,  that  she  is 
confined  to  her  bed.  Her  stomach  and  bowels 
being  equally  diseased  with  her  lungs,  she  has 
to  avffer  a  great  deal.  Her  constant  cheerful- 
ness is  a  subject  of  surprise  among  our  Pro- 
testant friends,  and  admiration  to  Catholics. 
In  hours  of  severe  pain  she  changes  not  her 
smile,  and  between  moments  of  distress  and 
anguish  she  will  converse  and  laugh  with  those 
around  her.  She  receives  visits  from  all  who 
ever  knew  her ;  they  often  say  to  me  on  leav- 
ing, *  How  can  Helen  be  so  happy,  she  mnat 
have  something  to  sustain  her  I'  If  they  only 
knew !  y  they  only  knew  I  To  me  it  is  a  great 
consolation,  you  may  be  sure,  this  her  peaceful 
frame  of  mind ;  for  when  I  am  looking  forward 
to  my  ovm  loneliness  after  her  departure,  I 
feel  less  sad  to  think  that  I  shall  have  the 
memory  of  her  submission  to  the  will  of  our 
Divine  Lord.  (I  had  better  say  joy  in  it.) 
*  *  *  The  consciousness  that  I  am  doing  the 
will  of  God  is  enough  to  make  me  content.  I 
am  sometimes  lonely  for  St.  Eustache,  but  I 


17* 


198 


THE  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


will  not  complain.  I  had  a  year  there  which 
I  little  deserved,  and  it  will  never  be  forgotten. 
The  remembrance  of  the  graces  there  received, 
and  of  the  quiet  happiness  of  my  sojourn  with 
you,  will  be  among  the  bright  thoughts  of  my 
future  I  *  *  *" 

In  a  letter  to  the  Compiler  of  these  Memoirs, 
written  Aug.  1st,  1858,  Debbie  says  :  "  Helen 
is  now  very  feeble — does  not  sit  up  at  all.  I 
can  see  that  she  fails  from  day  to  day.  *  *  * 
Y6u  probably  hear  from  her  other  ways,  there- 
fore I  will  leave  the  rest  until  you  see  her, 
which  we  were  so  happy  to  hear,  we  might 
hope  would  be  very  soon.  Helen  and  myself 
have  looked  for  you  and  Mary  to  visit  us,  and 
longed  to  see  you  both,  but  we  know  also  how 
little  time  you  have  to  leave  home,  since  your 
family  is  so  large,  and  of  course,  have  made  all 

allowances.    I  heard  from  father  R of 

Bishop  Young's  visit  to  the  family  of  out  faith- 
ful Libbie  in  Ohio.  I  should  not  be  surprised 
if  her  friends  should  yet  be  united  with  her 
in  the  precious  bonds  of  the  Catholic  faith. 
Wliat  a  joy  it  would  be  for  her,  for  us,  for 
every  Catholic  heart  the  world  over — another 


THB  TOUNQ  CONVERTS. 


199 


glorious  conquest  of  Faith  1  Be  sure,  I  have 
not  forgotten  to  pray  for  them ;  and  for  her, 
that  she  may  be  allowed  to  go  to  the  Ursuline 
Convent  in  Cleveland,  as  she  desires.  It  would 
be  such  a  happiness  for  the  dear  child!  I 
must  not  write  more  to-night,  for  I  have  not 
the  time.  Poor  Helen  says,  *  I  shall  probably 
never  visit  my  frier  da  again,  they  must  come 
and  see  me.'  You  little  know  how  feeble  she 
is,  and  how  much  attention  she  requires  She 
joins  me  in  warmest  love  to  you  and  Aunt 

L- ,  who  is,  I  hope,  improving  in  health*    I 

have  heard  several  times  she  was  not  well. 
Present  our  kindest  regards  to  your  good  hus- 
band S ,  Mary,  and  all  your  family.  I  re- 
main, yours  very  affectionately,  Debbie  Bar- 
low, Enfant  de  Marie.'* 

In  fulfillment  of  the  expectation  mentioned 
in  this  letter,  we  went,  (Mary  and  I,)  soon 
after  its  receipt,  to  pass  a  long  summer  day 
with  them  in  Fairfield,  starting  very  early 
in  the  morning.  A  short  passage  connected 
Helen's  room  with  the  parlor  into  which  we 
were  conducted  upon  our  entrance.  Debbie 
met  us  with  great  joy.    ,We  stopped  to  make 


200 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


some  inquiries  about  Helen  before  going  to 
her,  when  to  our  surprise  the  door  into  that 
passage  opened  suddenly,  and  Helen  was  be- 
fore us  1  I  shall  never  forget  how  like  an  angej 
she  looked  as  she  stood  in  that  doorway ;  her 
face  all  radiant  with  joy,  and  the  folds  of  her 
lone  white  muslin  robe  floating  about  her! 
She  had  recognized  our  voices  and  could  not 
wait  for  us  to  ask  questions,  but  must  see  ur 
f^^  once.  It  was  so  like  our  own  Helen  \ 
Neither  can  I  ever  forget  the  emotions  thai 
swelled  my.  heart  almost  to  bursting,  as  I  fold- 
ed her  in  a  long  embrace,  and  then  with  lov- 
ing chidings,  half  playful,  half  assumed  to  hide 
the  grief  which  must  be  suppressed,  led  her 
back  to  her  bed.  It^^as  one  of  the  few  occa- 
sions  upon  which  Debbie  had  known  her  to 
yield  to  the  strong  emotions  of  which  we  knew 
her  impulsive  nature  was  so  susceptible.  After 
the  momentary  "April  shower"  the  old  sun- 
shine glanced  back  upon  us,  as  with  one  of  her 
merriest  laughs  she  said,  "  It  itiade  a  hahy  of 
me  to  see  yow,  aunty,  to  think  of  all  the  past, 
and  to  know  it  ifi  all  past — will  return  no 
more  forever  1    But  sweeter  than  memories  of 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


201 


I  ! 


J 
no 

of 


pleasant  hours  is  the  will  of  my  God !"  "Yes," 
clasping  her  thin  white  hands  together,  and 
smiling,  while  her  uplifted  eyes  beamed  with 
joy  and  love  unutterable,  "  to  know  that  I 
shall  so  soon  see  Him  as  He  is,  and  with  the 
blessed  saints  adore  Him  in  His  glory,  is  worth 
more  than  all  the  joys  a  thousand  worlds  like 
this  could  give  1"  She  would  not  let  me  leave 
her  that  day.  Even  when  she  must  rest  a 
little  while,  her  hand  was  clasped  in  mine. 
How  reluctantly  I  left  her  at  its  close!  and 
how  well  did  I  forbode  that  I  should  never  see 
her  face,  or  listen  to  that  dear  voice  again  ; 
even  while  I  flattered  myself  and  her,  that  I 
idight  be  able  to  go  to  her  again  before  her  de- 
parture I  I  seems  to  me  as  I  recall  it,  that  the 
face  was  never  so  radiantly  beautiful^  or  the 
voice  so  softly  sweet,  as  during  those  hours  of 
my  last  interview  with  her  1  A  few  weeks 
later  Debbie  wrote  to  St.  Eustache  : 
"  Fairfield,  Sept.,  IS58.— My  Dear  Tante 

S *  *  Letters  from  St.   Eustache  float 

like  sunbeams  across  my  path,  shedding  light 
where  all  seems  dark  around  me  1  They  are 
always  so  fvll  of  consolations  and  cheering 


w 


203 


THE  YOUNO  ooinrEivni. 


with  all  the  rest,  that  Hove  them  more  and 
more,  each  one  that  comes.  Our  Divine  Lord 
always  gives  something  to  console,  even  wheft 
He  is  afflicting  His  children  the  most,  and  I 
sometimes  think  He  has  done  so  in  mj  ease,  by 
sending  me  such  fViends  as  I  have.  I  fear  I 
am  not  thankful  enough  to  God  for  those  greal 
gifts.  Since  I  wrote  you  last,  our  dear  Helen 
has  continued  to  fail.  One  week  ago,  Fathei^ 
Br- gave  her  Holy  Communion  and  Ex- 
treme Unction.  She  has  been  more  comforta- 
ble since.  She  was  as  calm  through  it  as  fliie 
has  been  through  all.  The  day  following,  our 
good  Bi^p  eame  to  f^air^ld  to  visit  her. 
She  seemed  to  enjoy  his  visit  very  much.  He 
told  n^  onr  leaving  that  he  thought  her  '  dispo- 
sitions the  most  remarkaUe  he  had  ever 
known' — that  he  had  never  seen  a  person  who^^ 
had  seemed,  from  the  very  first,  m  completdy 
resigned  to  the  will  of  God.  And  he  is 
right.  She  has  never  said, '  t  wish  to  Uve/ 1^ 
'  I  wish  to  die  J  She  has  always  said  it  was  li 
matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  her,  that  1ib» 
was  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  He  would  d^ 
with  her  as  He  saw  fit,  and  it  would  ^H  h 


THI  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


203 


Hght.    I  haye  neyer  heard  her  say  that  she 
wished  to  be  released  from  her  suffeiings.. 
The  nearest  approach  to  anything  of  the  kind 
that  I  have  heard,  was  a  few  days  ago.    She 
had  suffered  much  for  want  of  breath.    I  was 
mtting  near  her,  and  she  finally  said :  '  Oh, 
how  long  do  you  think,  Debbie,  I  shall  carry 
about'  me,  this  poor  body  ?'    I  replied,  '  Not 
long  I  think,  dear  V     She  looked  at  rae,  and 
such  an  expression  of  delight  passed  over  her 
countenance  as  I  have  seldom  seen,  while  she 
exclaimed, '  Won't  I  hreaihe  eaey^  then  I  and  it 
will  be  a  differmt  air  from  thisf'    On  the 
eve  of  the  Assumption,  I  was  leaying  her 
room  to  go  to  my  own,  and  as  I  went  up  tQ 
her  bed  to  bid  her  good  night,  she  said  to  me,' 
'We  e^U  wake  to  a  glorious  festiyal  to-mor- 
row ;  what  if  I  should  awake '  in  a  hetkr 
world  ?''    I  asked  her  if  she  would  like  to. 
*  If  it  wisre  the  will  of  God,  I  would  not  6b- 
jfc^  P  was  her  reply.    It  is  wch  a  consolation 
to  see  her  thus !    How  can  I  ever  be  thankfid 
enough  to  Almighty  God  in  her  behidf !  "^  ** 
A  life  of  thanksgiving  would  be  nothing  t   She 
has  given  away  all  her  things )  that  is^  all  she 


\V 


204 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


yalued.  She  has  spoken  of  her  burial  and 
all  those  matters,  so  as  to  relieve  me  ;  she  says 
she  speaks  of  them  as  she  would  of  any  other 
occurrences  which  were  expected  to  take  place. 
Her  calm  exterior  in  parting  with  friends,  ^r- 


prises  me. 


«  «  >» 


Her  whole  demeanor  is  calm 


and  cheerful,  not  cold.  If  she  sees  a  friend 
shed  tears,  she  says,  *  Are  you  not  more  coura- 
geous than  that  Y  and  so  she  is  through  all.  I 
pray  God  she  may  continue  so.  Father  R — 
brings  the  Holy  Communion  to  her  every 
week.  ♦  *  What  is  gain  for  her,  will  be  loss 
for  us  I  Helen  is  a  lovely  girl,  (if  she  is  my 
sister)  and  too  much  so  for  earth.  I  complain 
not  that  Heaven  has  chosen  her !  Anna  is  not 
yet  baptized,  and  difficulties  are  abundant  in 
the  way.  They  seem  to  multiply  around 
her.  *  ♦  *" 

Thomas  a  Eempis  says,  "If  thou  Ladst  a 
pure  conscience,  thou  wouldst  not  much /ear 
deaihl"  It  was  doubtless  the  profession  of 
that  treasure,  joined  to  her  peculiar  natural 
cheerfulness,  that  enabled  Helen  to  take  the 
remarkably  calm,  even  pleasant,  view  of  her 
approaching  dissolution,  which  has  been  the 


•'»*..., 


THI  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


205 


dceasion  of  reproachful  and  censorious  com- 
mentaries on  the  part  of  some  who  were  ever 
watching  these  sweet  sisters  to  detect  some- 
thing  to  condemn  in  them.  They  little 
dreamed,  indeed,  that  it  was  the  depth  and 
fttrt^or  of  a  piety  whose  warm  gushings  were 
nbifot  their  ears,  which  had  thus  overcome 
nittafe  in  this  child  of  Faith  i 

"St.  Albans,  JVov.  Hih,  1858— 3fy  Dear 
Tank  8—1  have,  this  thorning,  to  communi- 
cate to  you  the  sad  intelligence  that  our  dear 
Helen  is  no  more  of  this  earth.  She  died  la&i 
Friday  morning,  at  a  <|uarter  before  ten,  and 
h^  funeral  was  attended  at  Fairfield,  at 
eleven  o'clock,  on  the  Feast  of  AU-iSaints, 
(Nov.  1st,)  after  which  her  remains'  were 
brought  to  St.  Albans  for  interment.  I  am 
sure  you  will  desire  to  know  all  the  particn- 
lirs  of  her  death,  and  I  will  try  to  give  them 
in  fhll.  On  the  Thursday  evening  previous  to 
Thursday,  the  last  day  of  her  life,  she  com- 
menced sinking  rapidly.  Wc  called  in  a  phy- 
sfdlan,  and  she  asked  him  how  much  longer  he 
thought  she  had  to  live?  He  told  her  but  a 
short  time,  though  probably  for  a  day  or  two 


18 


w 


t    • 


206 


THE  YOUNG  C0NVKRT8. 


longer.  From  that  moment  her  countenance 
assumed  the  most  joyous  expression  I  ever  saw 
it  wear,  and  so  continued  until  death.  She 
remained  pretty  comfortable  until  Tuesday 
night,  when  about  three  o'clock  in  the  night, 
or  rather  Wednesday  morning,  we  thought  her 
going.  The  physician  was  in  the  next  room.* 
I  stepped  and  spoke  to  him,  asking  if  he 
thought  there  was  any  change  ?  After  watch- 
ing her  breathing  for  a  short  time,  he  told  roe 
he  thought  there  was.  She  then  requested 
the  family  to  be  called.  Father  and  mother, 
and  the  other  three  sisters  were  called  from 
their  beds,  and  we  all  stood  around  (what  we 
supposed)  her  dying  couch  ;  she  was  supported 
by  pillows,  and  sitting  up.  The  scene  was  be- 
yond description.  Father  was  bowed  down 
by  grief,  and  Mother  worse ^— but  Helen! 
what  shall  I  say  of  her  ?    A  bright  smile,  a 

*  The  slsten  \vere  deeply  attached  to  this  phjiddan, 
who  also  entertained  a  most  afl^otionate  regwrd  for 
them.  So  strong  was  the  interest  they  felt  for  his  spirit- 
ual welfare,  that,  at  their  joint  and  earnest  reqaest,  the 
Compiler  presented  his  name  to  a  pious  coafiraternlty, 
formed  for  the  sole  purpose  of  praying  for  the  conversion 
ot  those  who  hai^,|^iife8ted  an  interest,  at  any  time,  in 
our  holy  Te\lgjtB^0^mpUer. 


THE  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


207 


lion 
ia 


look  almost  of  delight  animated  her  features, 
as  she  addressed  each  one  separately.  She 
called  Laura  and  Oharlotte,  and  embraced 
them  both ;  then  taking  Anna  by  one  hand, 
and  father  by  the  other,  she  said  to  the  former, 
*  You  promise  me,  don't  you,  Anna  ?"  Then 
turning  her  eyes  towards  father,  she  spoke  in 
this  way  :  *  Father,  I  am  almost  home  ;  my 
w<n»k  is  almost  done  ;  would  that  I  had  lived 
better  t  But  God  is  merciful  I  These  chil- 
dren must  aU  come  to  this  hour ;  they  must 
one  day  be  where  /  am  now,  and  I  want  them 
to  have  the  same  consolations  that  /  have !' 
Not  one  could  reply.  She  then  continued  :  '  I 
have  loved  you  ciU;  1  have  disobeyed  but  in 
one  thing  !  Is  it  right  now,  father  V  He  an- 
swered her,  '  fes,  my  child,  it  is  all  right  I' 
She  then  bid  them  all  good-bye,  and  turned  to 
her  physician.  Doctor,  have  I  much  longer  to 
stay?'  His  reply  was  that  he  thought  not. 
She  then  began  to  pray,  and  I,  kneeling  by  her 
side,  could  occasionally  catch  some  words  from 
her  lips  though  her  voice  was  very  indistinct. 
It  was  evidi^l  her  miind  was  in  Heaven,  for 
twice  she  exclaimed,  '  Call  me  to  Heaven  1 


808 


THB  YODNO    C0NVBBT8. 


call  me  to  Heaven  !'  She  spoke  of  notbiiig^, 
only  to  ask,  '  Are.  you  near  me,  Debbie  V 
Finally,  she  seemed  to  be  disturbed  by  the 
weeping  around  her.  *  Why  do  you  regret  ? 
You  have  reason  to  rejoice,  father !'  said  she. 
Then  whispering  to  me,  she  added,  'Send 
them  away,  Debbie,  they  are  drawing  me  away 
from  Heaven  I'  She  continued  in  this  way 
until  day-break  Wednesday  morning,  when, 
instead  of  dying,  she  revived ;  but  from  that 
time  until  Thursday  noon,  she  never  swallowed 
but  once.  Of  course,  her  sufferings  were  very 
great,  but  patience  was  not  wanting  on 'her 

part.    Father  R came  in  to  see  her.    He 

asked  if  there  was  anything  more  he  could  do 

for  her.    Her  reply  was,  'No,  Father  R -y 

only  to  pray  for  me.'  It  was  the  last  time  he 
ever  saw  her.  He  said  he  thought  her  the 
happiest  soul  he  had  ever  attended.  She  lin^ 
gered  along  through  the  day  and  night,  until 
Friday  morning,  at  the  early  hour  of  half-past 
three  ;  then  she  began  to  sink  as  before.  Her 
physician,  who  never  left  the  house,  came  into 
the  room,  and  she  asked  him,  '  Have  I  much 
longer  to  stay  ?'    He  examined  her  pulse,  and 


■---    .^' 


TOE  TOUNG  CONYEBTa. 


209 


<  I 


told  her  she  had  not.  ♦  *  *  The  family  were 
aq^ain  called,  and  some  friends  who  were  in 
the  house.  About  this  time,  her  vision  seemed 
to  be  becoming  imperfect,  and  she  said  to  the 
Doctor, '  Is  this  room  filled  with  ashes  Y  '  Why 
no,  my  child  1'  She  requested  to  be  moved 
near  the  window  that  she  might  breathe 
easier,  and  said  again  to  the  doctor,  '  Did  you 
ever  see  such  air  ?'  '  Helen,'  said  he,  '  you  do 
not  see  perfectly ;  there  is  nothing  in  the 
room.'  She  then  turned  to  me  ;  'I  shall  not 
breathe  such  air  as  this  in  Heaven,  shall  J, 
Debbie  V  Then  she  asked  again  :  ^Muai  I 
stay  much  longer,  Doctor  ?'  Being  answered 
*  No,'  she  said, '  Good  bye,  all.  I  have  said  all 
I  have  to  say  ;  now  stay  by  me,  Debbie.'  By 
this  time  her  voice  had  become  almost  inaudi- 
ble, but  by  being  so  near,  I  could  distinguish 
parts  of  sentences.  Her  lips  moved  con- 
stantly, and  the  names  of  Jesvs  and  Mary 
were  repeatedly  uttered.  She  asked  me  to 
say  '  We  fly  to  thy  Patronage.'  I  did  so,  and 
also  the  Litany  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  She 
responded,  'Pray  for  us,'  until  I  was  nearly 

through,  and  her  voice  was  too  faint  to  be 

is* 


w 


910 


TB*  TOCNO  coNvime. 


beard ;  bat  when  the  ooncluding  prayer  was 
finished,  ahe  said  '  Amen  I'  bo  that  every  per- 
ion  in  the  room  heard  her  plainly.  She  held 
her  crucifix  as  long  as  her  hands  were  strong 
enough,  and  times  without  number,  pressed  it 
loTingly  to  her  lips.  Being  uncertain  whether 
i^e  could  see  or  not,  I  held  it  before  her  a 
short  time  after  she  had  dropped  it.  She 
fixed  her  eyes  again  upon  it  for  a  momti;t,  and 
sweetly  whispered,  *  My  crucified  Lord  V 
These  were  the  last  words  she  uttered,  while 
her  mind  remained  clear.  Soon  the  doctor 
perceived  thatai^  abscess  had  broken  upon  her 
lungs,  and  thou  her  mind  seemed  to  wander ; 
until  nine  o'clock,  fdie  continued  to  speak  but 
very  little.  She  seemed  happy  all  the  time, 
but  partly  unooascions  of  her  situation.  At  i^ 
quarter  past  nine  she  began  to  suffer  the  most 
terrible  agony,  and  from  that  time  ceased  to 
speak,  except  a  few  times  we  h'^  i  -.nf  name. 
At  a  quarter  beibre  ten,  she  br^vibr^^  ,.,  .  ]aat^ 
Her  physician  thought  she  bad  been  nnoonr 
scions  of  h^  sufferings  for  half  an  hour.  I 
stood  by  her  side  until  all  was  over.  Anna 
m^l  Laura  were  ik  the  room,  but  none  of 


THB    YOVNO    CONVtICW. 


9U 


»iho  other  friends.  After  death,  her  '^^unte- 
DADce  was  perfectly  hvdy.  The  same  smile 
lingered  on  those  pale  lips,  and  every  one  who 
beheld  her,  pronounced  her '  beautiful  in  death/ 
On  the  days  while  she  lay  in  the  house,  more 
than  six  hundred  people  came  to  see  her.  The 
funeral  was  very  large.  Forty-six  carriages, 
and  a  great  many  on  foot,  followed  her  re- 
mains from  Fairfield  to  St.  Albans,  eight  mi '  ^ 
notwithstanding  the  unfavorable  weather  and 
very  had  roads.  She  died  as  she  had  lived, 
and  you  know  how  that  was.  Would  that  my 
last  end  might  be  like  hers  1  I  am  certain 
that  you  will  not  forget  to  pray  for  the  repose 
of  her  soul.  ♦  *  *  I  am  now  at  Mr.  Hoyt's 
passing  a  few  days.  *  *  *" — And  Helen  wai 
gone.  We  could  never  have  thought  that  she 
would  die  so  young — she  who  was  so  blithe,  so 
sparkling  ;  so  original  in  ail  sportful  fancies. 
Helen,  to  apply  the  expressions  of  a  much 
admired  modern  writer  to  her,  "with  her 
piqnant  face,  engaging  prattle,  and  winning 
wayt,  wa4  made  to  be  a  pet.  Do  yon  know 
tys  pUce  ?  No,  yon  never  saw  it  (perhaps). 
i^t  you  recognize  the  nature' of  these  trees, 


SIS 


THE  YOUNG   C0NVEBT8. 


this  foliage  I  *  *.  ^^toncs  like  these  are  not  un- 
familiar to  you  ;  ndfare  these  dim  garlands  of 
everlasting  flowers.    Here  is  the  place— green 
sod,  and  a  white  marble  head-stone — Helen 
sleeps  foelow!    She  lived  through  an  April 
day  ;  much  loved  was  she,  much  loving.    She,, 
often,  in  her  brief  life,  shed  tears  ;  she  had  fre- 
quent sorrows  ;  she  smiled  between,  gladden-i 
ing  whatever  saw  her  I" — Her  spirit  was  at- 
ti^iiied  to  the  harmony  of  Heaven.    Her  prac- 
tice, entire   conformity  to    the  will   of  her* 
Maker!    Long  shall  we  miss  thee,  darling  I 
Requieacat  in  pace  / 

"  Fairfield,  Dec.  Xst,  1858.-'  [I  quote  from 
a  letter,  written  by  Debbie  to  her  friend  at 
St.  Eust4iche.]     "Anna  has  been  preparing  for 
baptism  and  required  all  my  leisure  hours. 
She  had  the  happiness  of  being  received  into, 
the  church  yesterday  morning,  on  the  anni-y 
versary  of  my  own  baptism,  so  you  perceive  I 
had  double  cause  for  returning  thanks  to  Al-i 
mighty  God.     She  obtained  permission  with- 
out difficulty,  and  now  is  within  the  Ark  of 
Safety.    I  was  her  godmother  j  she  was  bap»| 
tized  Anna  Maria,    Any  one  whom  I  have 


THE  YOUNG  OONVkSTS. 


313 


(  I 


anything  to  do  with  mast  luke  the  name  of 
Mary.  She  will  probably  make  her  first  Com- 
munion on  Christmas  and  be  confirmed  about 
that  time,  as  we  expect  the  Bishop  then  to 
spend  a  few  days  in  Fairfield.  She  seems  very 
happy,  and  desires  your  fervent  prayers  fqjr 
her  perseverance.  •  *  *"  Anna  Barlow  had  at 
this  time  just  entered  her  eighteenth  year. 
She  was  not  so  tall  as  her  elder  bisters,  but  her 
form  was  very  slight  and  her  carriage  singu- 
larly easy  and  graceful.  Her  clear  blue  eyes 
sparkled  with  intelligence  and  feeling,  and  her 
complexion  was  so  purely  transparent  as  to 
reveal  but  too  plainly,  to  an  experienced  eye, 
a  constitutional  tendency  to  the  fatal  disease 
which  claimed  its  victimso  much  sooner  than 
could  have  been  anticipated,  that  the  convic- 
tion of  its  presence  fell  like  a  bewildering  sur- 
prise upon  us  all.  The  remarkable  energy 
and  activity  of  her  character  and  habits,  pro- 
bably aided  in  concealing  to  a  later  period 
than  is  usual  in  such  cases,  the  painful  truth — 
always  most  unwillingly  admitted  by  fond 
hearts — that  she  was  destined  to  an  early 


214 


THB  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


grave.  During  that  winter,  Debbie  made  a 
visit  of  considerable  length  in  Burlington. 
Wliilo  there,  she  wrote  to  her  mother  under 
date  of  Feb.  Ist,  1859.  In  the  course  of  the 
letter  she  speaks  of  being,  "  troubled  more  or 
less  with  a  pain  in  my  side,  from  some  cause 
or  other.  It  troubled  me  before  I  left  home, 
and  has  more,  since  I  came  away.  I  hope, 
however,  it  will  leave  me  before  long." — Some 
months  after  Helen's  death,  Mr.  Barlow  bought 
a  beautiful  place  at  St.  Albans,  where  his  chief 
business  had  been  located  for  more  than  a 
year  previous,  and  his  family  began  to  make 
arrangements  for  their  removal.  In  conse- 
quence of  a  very  thorough  course  of  repairs 
upon  the  place,  and  the  time  and  attention  re' 
quisitq  to  provide  and  prepare  the  new  furni- 
ture for  so  large  a  mansion,  that  removal  did 
not  take  place,  however,  until  past  the  mid- 
summer of  1859.  The  correspondence  be- 
tween Debbie  and  the  young  friend,  (from  her 
letters  to  whom  I  have  previously  given  some 
extracts,)  had  been  interrupted  for  some  time 
bv  circumstances  on  both  sides  unfavorable  to 


\k,.4 


\ 


-/, 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


215 


its  continuance.  It  was  resumed  in  March, 
1859.  I  extract  a  part  of  a  letter  from  Deb- 
bie to  that  friend,  on  the  25th  of  March. 

"  My  Dear ;  \  was  somewhat  surpnsed 

to  receive  a  letter  from  you  a  few  evenings 
since,  and  equally  plet'sed.  I  had  thought 
many  times  that  I  would  write  to  you,  but 
waited,  hoping  to  have  some  intelligence  from 
you  first.  I  am  sorry  now  that  I  did  not,  but 
you  will  pardon  me,  I  am  sure.  Yes!  our 
beloved  Helen  is  no  more  of  this  earth  I  *  * 
Her  death  was  that  of  a  saint.  It  was  more 
happy,  more  glorious,  than  I  can  tell  you. 
Her  suflferings  were  very  great  for  some  time 
before  her  departure.  *  *  From  Monday  until 
the  morning  she  died,  which  was  Friday,  I 
never  left  her  side.  Of  the  sweet  peace,  the 
almost  ecstatic  joy,  which  beamed  in  her  coun- 
tenance for  that  length  of  time,  I  will  say  but 
little;  t^or{£5  are  inadequate  for  the  task.  She 
could  speak  most  of  the  time,  and  one  might 
easily  have  in^agincd  that  her  soul  was  already 
experiencing  a  foretaste  of  Heaven,  could  they 
have  heard  all  that  passed  from  those  loved 
lips.    And  what  must  have  been  going  on  in 


216 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS 


that  heai't  I  I  hnow  from  the  fexpression  of 
delight,  of  rapture,  which  occasionally  over- 
spread her  face,  when  all  was  silent  about, 
that  she  was  holding  communion  with  the 
blessed  in  Heaven.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  she 
said ;  I  cannot  tell  you  here  of  the  patient  re- 
signation with  which  she  received  her  suffer- 
ings, nor  of  the  longing  desire,  the  constant 
anxiety,  with  which  she  looked  forward  to  the 
moment  when  she  should  "  sin  no  more  1"  No, 
I  cannot  tell  you  all  now,  but  I  hope  to  see 
you  soon,  and  then  I  can  and  will.  Suffice  to 
say,  she  died  on  Friday^  the  day  upon  which 
she  always  wished  to  leave  this  weary  world, 
full  of  hope,  without  one  regret  for  all  she  left 
behind,  without  one  -sigh,  one  tear,  or  one  look 
of  sorrow,  while  others  wept  around  her,  hour 
after  hour.  She  left  not  one  stain  upon  her 
Christian  character,  and  never,  to  my  know- 
ledge, did  she  commit  one  act  which  brought 
a  reproach  upon  the  holy  faith  she  professed. 
She  has  died  '  the  death  of  the  just,'  and  well 
might  our  wish  be  that  ours  might  be  like 
unto  it.  The  burial  was  on  the  Feast  of  All 
Saints,  one  of  her  favorite  festivals.     The 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


211 


month  of  November  had  just  commenced,  as 
you  see,  aiid  that  being  the  month  in  which  so 
much  is  done  for  the  souls  in  purgatory,  what 
a  lovely  time  to  die  I    Could  she  have  chosen  a 
better  ?   And  now,  for  myself — Helen  is  gone  1 
I  doubt  her  need  of  the  prayers  and  suffrages 
of  the  faithful ;  still  the  Church  commands  us 
to  pray  for  the  departed,  but  pray  for  me  dear 
— .    Our  Divine  Lord  has  bestowed  so  many 
graces  upon  me,  that  I  fear  lest  I  prove  un- 
grateful ;  He  has  given  me  sometimes  a  little 
share  in  His  Cross,  but  not  enough  yet.  There 
are  others  yet  in  store  for  me,  and  I  regret  it 
not.    Pray  that  I  may  have  courage  and  pa- 
tience I    I  am  very  happy  this  winter,  and 
why  should  I  not  be?    Another,  near  and 
dear  to  me,  has  been  received  into  our  Holy 
Church!    Our  Divine  Saviour  gives  me  too 
many  consolations.    I  know  you  rejoice  with 
me,  and  pray  for  the  others.    We  are  about- 
leaving  Fairfield,  pn  May  we  expect  to  go  to 
St.  Albans  to  reside.  *  *  *" 

To  the  same :  "  April  24«A-^  *  *  *  Qf 
course  you  know  that  Lent  is  over.  Well, 
our  church  in  Fairfield  had  to  be  decorated  for 


218 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


Easter,  and  I  have  been  very  much  engaged 
preparing  wreaths  and  flowers  for  the  Altar. 
We  have  had  services  every  day  through  Holy 
Week,  and  of  course  I  have  not  had,  many 
moments  to  spare.  Thursday  night,  I  had  the 
happiness  of  spending  the  hours  from  nine  un- 
til twelve  before  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  somo- 
thing  which  I  do  every  year,  if  possible.  I 
thought  I  was  going  to  be  disappointed  this 
time,  as  we  feared  we  could  not  have  a  Beposi- 
tary,  but  we  did,  and  I  had  that  great  privi- 
lege. I  received  Holy  Communion  on  Holy 
Thursday.  You  were  not  forgotten.  Easter 
has  come,  and  we  must  rejoice,  and  we  can  do 
so  together.  The  day  is  a  very  cloudy  dark 
one  here,  not  such  as  it  seems  to  mc  the  feast 
of  our  Lord's  Resurrection  should  be,  but  the 
*  Alleluias'  made  it  seem  a  little  more  bright. 
I  love  Easter  I  There  is  something  which 
takes  all  sadness  from  my  heart,  in  the  appear- 
ance of  everything  on  fwyyy  I  do  not 
wonder  at  the  simplicity  of  Jhoir  faith,  who 
see  the  sun  dance  on  Easter  Sunday  morning. 
A  year  ago  to-day  Helen  r^eived  Commu- 
nion for  the  last  time^  in  ^rch^  and  I  with 


f**i. 


THE  TOUNO  OOM VERTS. 


219 


f 


her.  This  makes  me  a  little  sad  in  spite  of 
myself,  but  why  should  I  be?  Her  Easter, 
this  year,  is  a  far  happier  one,  far  more  glori- 
ous, than  earth  can  ever  make  it.  She  loved 
the  glorious  mysteries  of  our  Lord's  life,  and 
through  Passion  time  she  was  ever  looking 
forwai'd  to  His  Resurrection,  and  then  stiU 
forward  to  Bis  Ascension.  *  *  *"  Debbie 
was  pleased  with  the  choice  of  their  future 
home,  as  the  residence  her  father  had  pur- 
chased was  that  of  her  friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
fioyt,  (who  removed  to  Burlington  to  reside 
soon  after  the  sale  of  their  house,)  where  she 
and  Helen  had  passed  so  many  happy  days  to- 
gether. Yet  she  experienced  deep  regrets 
upon  leaving  Fairfield,  the  home  of  her  child^ 
hood.  She  had  many  friends  there,  to  whom 
she  was  warmly  attached,  even  among  those 
whose  affection  for  her  And  her  sister  had 
been  chilled  by  their  submission  to  the  Catho- 
lic faith.  Her  spirit,  always  too  generous  to 
stoop  to  emotions  of  ill-will,  jealousy  or  envy, 
was,  when  brought  under  the  influence  of  that 
faith,  too  thoroughly  imbued  with  charity  and 
humility  to .  reciprocate  the  coldness  she  too 


1 1 


220 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


often  met  from  others,  or  to  utter  even  to  her 
most  intimate  friends  any  expressions  Tvhich 
(if  they  heard  them,)  could  wound  the  feelings 
of  those  who  so  carelessly  wounded  her  own.  ^ 
Beyond  a  gentle  and  kind  allusion  to  her  re- 
gret for  such  estrangements,  she  never  went. 
Our  spirited  Helen,  indeed,  would  sometimes 
toss  her  head  and  make  some  indignant  or 
contemptuous  remark,  but  the  next  moment 
sl^e  would  take  it  all  back  and  condemn  her- 
self with  severe  humility  for  her  momentary 
departure  from  charity.  How  loving  and 
how  sweet  were  the  approving  smiles  with 
which  her  elder  sister  rewarded  those  little 
conquests  which  she  thus  achieved  over  her 
impetuous  nature,  they  who  have  seen  them 
much  together  will  vividly  remember,  and 
will  sympathize  with  the  emotions  which  fill 
my  eyes  with  tears  as  I  record  these  rem'*nis- 
cences.  Then  there  was  the  hamble  church  of 
Fairfield,  within  whose  sacred  walls  many  of 
her  fondest  associations  were  garnered^  There 
she  had  often  knelt  with  the  dear  departed  to 
partake  of  the  Bread  of  Angels.  There  they 
had  gone  together  to  offer  their  humble  adora* 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


221 


tions  before  Jesus  in  His  Sacramen^iiLove. 
And  there,  when  that  sister's  faith  ^^HMKed 
to  right,  and  her  hopes  rlosed  in  full  fruition, 
she  had  sought  daily,  for  many  months,  the 
consolations  which  could  be  found  only  in 
communion  with  her  Saviour,  before  His  holy 
Altar.  Its  pastor  had  also  been  the  director 
and  guide  of  her  pure  soul,  as  well  as  those  of 
her  sisters  on  their  heavenward  journey,  since 
the  day  of  their  baptism  She  now  felt  more 
than  ever  her  need  of  those  holy  counsels 
which  had  so  aided  in  si  pporting  her  beloved 
Helen  through  the  "  val'ey  of  the  shadow  of 
death,''  and  from  which  she  had  herself  also 
derived  sustaining  aid  to  strengthen  her  af- 
flicted spirit,  under  the  :  ^neliness  of  the  sepa- 
ration from  that  sister.  The  thought  of  being 
deprived  of  these,  as  hUe  must  be  in  a  great 
measure  after  tiieir  rem  val  to  St.  Albans,  was 
very  painful  to  her.  .^  nna's  health  was  be- 
ginning to  decline,  and  bhe  felt  that  her  own 
also  was  failing.  That  *'  pain  in  her  side,"  men- 
tioned in  her  letter  to  he  mother  in  February, 
was,  alas  I  never  to  "lea/e"  her,  as  she  hoped. 
The  final  arrangementb  for  removing  were 


I 


TH1B  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 

inadgM|M|efore,  under  circumstances  so  un- 
.pr4wH|||Pthftt  it  required  all  the  fortitude  of 
spirits  habituated  to  conformity  with  the  will 
of  God,  to  support  thrm  under  the  trial. 

In  the  early  part  of  July,  Debbie  again  tIs- 
ited  Montreal,  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
spiritual  retreat  in  her  dear  convent  home,  to 
decide  the  question  as  to  her  vocation  io  the 
life  of  a  religious.  That  question  was  then  de- 
cided affirmatively.  After  her  return  from 
Canada,  and  the  removal  of  the  family  to  St. 
Albans,  the  health  of  the  two  sisters  declined 
so  rapidly  that  it  was  judv^ed  best  to  take 
them  to  the  sea-shore,  to  try  the  affect  of  sea- 
bathing. It  proved  beneficial  to  Anna,  but 
Debbie  could  not  breathe  the  air  from  the 
ocean  with  any  comfort ;  it  produced  tlio  most 
distressing  cough  and  hoarseness,  with  great 
aggravation  of  the  pain  in  her  side,  which 
hastened  her  return  home.  Soon  after  she 
came  back  she  visited  me.  I  was  about  to  go 
to  New  York,  and  she  requested  me  to  see  the 
Superior  of  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  (with  whom  I 
became  acquainted  some  years  before,)  and  as- 
certain the  conditions  of  entrance  into  the 


THE   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


238 


Order  and  Convent.  Her  earnest  yet  half- 
abashed  manner  when  she  made  the  request,  « 
the  glowing  fervor  with  which  she  assured 
mo  that  her  desire  to  consecrate  *her  young 
life  to  God,  was  not  a  mere  sentiment  or  tran- 
sient feeling,  but  the  settled  aim  and  sum 
of  her  aspirations,  are  before  me  now.  It 
was  early  in  October.  By  a  higher  vocation 
was  her  desire  consumipated  on  tho  ninth  of 
April  following,  when  our  sweet  sister  "  fell 
asleep  in  Jesus  1'^  When  I  was  at  New  York, 
Mother  Agnes  was  alarmingly  ill,  and  I  could 
not  perform  m;  errand.  Before  I  saw  Debbie 
again,  she  had  been  attacked  with  severe 
hemorrhage  of  the  lungs,  and  when  I  told  her 
of  my  non-fulfillment  of  her  commission  she 
said  serenely,  "  It  is  just  as  well  so."  She  had 
meantime,  however,  obtained  the  desired  in- 
formation from  another  source,  but  knew  she 
could  never  avail  herself  of  it.  While  I  was 
gone  to  New  York  she  wrote  to  St.  Eustache. 
V  St.  Albans,  October  12th,  1859."— [After 
speaking  of  their  excursion  to  the  sea-shore, 
its  effects  upon  them  both,  her  own  improve- 
ment after  her  return  home,  and  that  Anna 


•'i  'el 


<'^' 


~-l 


\\ 


TBI  YOUNO  CONVIITI. 


I  '•. 


had  now  returned  much  benefited  by  sea- 
bathing, she  adds :]  "  I  ride  about  constantly, 
as  they  think  exercise  in  the  open  air  may  re- 
lieve  me.  I  think  I  may  get  better,  but  prO' 
hdbUities  are  against  me.  I  say  against  me^— I 
mean  my  recovery.  Not  that  I  f^ar  death  as 
a  misfortune,  far  from  it !  Though  it  will  be 
a  disappointment  not  to  be  able  to  consecrate 
myself  body  and  soul  to  the  serrioe  of  Qod  in 
this  life,  Mt\n  His  will  be  done !  '  Whether 
in  life  or  in  death  we  are  the  Lord's.'  It  will 
be  all  the  same.  *  *  *  Our  home  is  elegant-- 
furnished  by  the  kind  solicitude  of  my  father, 
with  every  comfort  and  luxury.  But  there  is 
nothing  in  worldly  advantages  and  delights, 
that  can  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  immortal 
soul.  *  *"  She  writes  again  to  the  same 
friend,  October  26fA,  in  cheerful  submission  to 
the  decision  which  had  now  been  made  known 
to  her  by  the  hemorrhage  of  the  lungs  before 
alluded  to,  and  from  which  she  was  just  so  far 
recovered  as  to  be  able  to  ^frite.  She  speaks 
of  it  as  a  painful  surprise  to  her  friends,  bat 
by  no  means  unexpected  by  herself ;  that  she 
had  been  confident  for  some  time  that  her 


THB  VOUNO  COMVEBTS. 


225 


lungs  were  diseased,  and  adds :  "  Anna  is  also 
quite  sick  just  now — a  severe  cold  at  first, 
followed  by  derangement  of  the  stomach  and 
bowels  and  extreme  debility.  I  insisted  laugh* 
ingly  that  she  was  sick  to  escape  waiting  upon 
me — she  having  been  taken  down  the  day 
after  my  sudden  attack.  I  feel  very  lonely 
without  the  privileges  of  attending  Mass  and 
visiting  the  Blessed  Sacrament."  *  ♦  "  Odo- 
her  29th — A  year  ago  to-day  Helen  died  I 
The  time  seems  so  short  that  I  can  hardly 
realize  it.  *  *  I  have  just  come  home  from 
Mass  which  was  oflfered  for  her  to-day,  and  am 
seated  in  my  room  alone.  I  have  taken  my 
pen  that  my  reflections  may  not  be  too  sad. 
I  shall  not  be  long  behind  her,  I  think,  and 
the  thought  is  not  unpleasant.  If  I  were  only 
like  her,  so  well  prepared,  I  should  see  no 
reason  for  regret ;  as  it  is,  I  have  only  to  en- 
deavor to  put  myself  in  readiness  for  that  hour. 
Consumption  gives  time  enough  in  which  to 
prepare  to  die — another  of  God's  mercies  I 
My  friends  in  Burlington  are  very  kind  to 


'J     I 
I 


i 


, 


me. 


*  *  *> 


if 


226 


THE  YOUNG  CONTEBTS. 


yf 


a 

}  t 


To  the  same  :  "St.  AlbAnb,  Nov.  2ith,  *  * 
*  *"  My  own  health  continues  about  the 
same.  Anna  is  wofse  than  I  am  now.  I  am 
fearful  she  is  not  going  to  be  any  better  either. 
We  are  very  anxious  about  her,  and  our  phy- 
sicians also.  She  does  not  leave  her  room, 
and  having  a  very  delicate  constitution,  the 
disease  she  has  had  has  nearly  proved  fatal. 
We  iiow  fear  quick  consumption.  The  Doc- 
tors 8ay  there  must  be  a  change  soon  or  she 
will  not  be  with  us  long.  I  have  almost  for- 
gotten my  own  troubles  in  my  anxiety  for  the 
poor  child.  She  is  good  and  patient  as  you 
ever  saw  any  one.  I  am  not  strong  enough 
to  do  for  her  as  I  did  for  Helen ;  in  fact,  I 
am  but  just  able  to  wait  on  myself.  *  *  *  * 
My  heart,  however,  is  very  light,  sickness  does 
not  make  me  sad.  I  shoud  pity  myself  if  it 
did  1  *  *  *"  She  was  prevented  from  finish- 
ing this  letter  for  some  days,  and  then  adds  : 
*'  Anna  continues  about  the  same.  My  Uncle 
Pierce  is  now  here.  -  He  thinks  her  case  ap- 
pears almost  hopeless.  So  continue  our  trials  ; 
I  shall  probably  live  to  see  her  die  also. 


i'} 


(1 


THE   YOUNO   CONVERTS. 


227 


/  I 


*  Only  going  a  little  before/  as  our  beloTcd 
Helen  said,  a  few  days  before  her  death.  *  * 

*  The  real  pain  of  sickness  consists  in  our  pri- 
vations in  holy  things.  No  Mass  1  Commu- 
nions but  seldom.  No  visits  to  the  Blessed 
Sacrament.  *  *  *  *"  About  this  time  Mr. 
Hoyt's  two  oldest  daughters  came  to  St.  Al- 
bans for  a  visit  of  a  few  days,  a  portion  of 
which  they  passed  in  their  former  home  with 
Debbie's  younger  sisters.  She  expected  to  ac- 
company them  when  they  returned  to  Burling- 
ton. Anna  became  suddenly  worse  and  she 
could  not  go.  She  wrote  by  them  to  Mrs. 
Hoyt. 

"  St.  Albans,  Nov.  dOth,  1859—-%  Dear 

Mrs.  Hoyt — A and  M are  leaving 

for  home  to  day,  and  I  intended,  when  they 
came^  to  have  gone  with  them  ;  but  it  has  been 
ordered  otherwise.  Probably  you  heard  from 
Mrs.  Hunt  of  Anna's  low  condition.  Since 
Sunday  she  has  seemed  to  fail  rapidly,  and  we 
have  now  little  or  no  grounds  for  hoping  she 
will  ever  be  any  better.  Her  symptoms  are 
all  bad — ^not  one  in  her  favor.  Her  limbs  are 
badly  swollen,  and,  in  fact,  her  body  seems  to 


\ 


if 


.ij 


228 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


tU 


n 


m 


11 


be  most  of  the  time.    Monday  afternoon  we 
thought  it  safest  and  best  for  her  to  receive 

the  last  sacraments,  as  Father   C was 

leaving  for  his  missions,  and  would  be  absent 
until  Saturday.  We  had  been  told  by  her 
physicians  that,  should  we  see  certain  symp- 
toms, we  might  be  alarmed,  and  look  for  a 
speedy  termination  of  all  her  troubles.  They 
appeared,  for  the  first  time,  Monday  morning. 
I  suppose,  if  there  is  no  change,  she  can  last 
but  a  short  time.  She  is  perfectly  conscious 
of  her  situation,  and  as  cheerful  as  ever  our 
dear  Helen  was  ;  though  she  did  not  expect  so 
soon  to  be  called.  When  I  told  her  the  opinion 
which  had  been  expressed  with  regard  to  her, 
the  intelligence  was  received  without  a  sign  of 
emotion.  She  answered  me  thus  :  *  I  did  not 
expect  it  so  soon  ;  but  it  is  all  the  same.'  It 
is  rather  sudden  to  us  all,  though  her  health 
has  been  poor  for  a  good  while.  It  seems  to 
our  father  and  mother  that  they  are  losing 
their  family  as  soon  as  the  Catholic  Church 
receives  them,  and  tlie  former  often  expresses 
himself  to  that  effect.  He  cannot  see  these 
afflictions  in  any  other  light.  *  Anna  had  mis- 


'J 


1 


mil    i,^>  ■■ 


fHB   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


229 


erable  health  long  ago — four  years  to-day,  you 
may  remember,  /do  nut  forget  it  certainly.  I 
have  reason  to  be  cheerful  this  morning,  even 
in  a  sad  house.  It  is  the  anniversary  of  my 
baptism,  and  AmvoHa  too.  It  is  just  a  year 
since  she  was  received  into  the  Church.  We 
aire  neither  of  us  too  down-hearted  to-day,  I 
assure  you,  though  somewhat  disappointed  in 
our  p^ns.  We  had  intended  to  spend  the  feast 
rather  differently.  Do  not  forget  to  pray  for 
us.  *  *  *  I  would  like  to  see  you  so  much. 
A— ^ —  will  tell  you  all.  We  were  delighted 
to  see  the  girls,  and  hope  they  have  enjoyed 
themselves.  They  have  been  here  but  little— 
I  wish  they  had  been  more,  for  it  seemed  such  a 
pleasure  to  Anna.  She  is  able  to  see  all  her 
friends.  *  *  *"  Her  next  letter  to  her  be- 
loved friend  at  St.  Eustache  was  written  with 
a  pencil.    She  was  unable  to  hold  a  pen. 

"St.  Albans,  Jan.  4iA,  1860 — Wednesday 
morning,  *  *  *  You  think  strange,  I  am  sure, 
that  I  have  been  so  long  without  writing  to 
you ;  but  I  have  not  been  able,  and  am  not 
now.  I  was  very  weak  when  I  received  your 
last  letter,  and  in  a  few  days  I  went  to  Bur- 

•  20 


\  ■■ 


230 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


lington.  I  remained  three  weeks  at  Mr.  Hoyt's. 
I  received  every  care  and  attention  that  could 
be  given  to  any  one,  but  continued  to  fail^very 
day.  I  came  home  last  week,  and  am  now  go 
feeble  as  hardly  to  leave  my  room  at  all.  I- 
have  been  trying  everyday  to  write  you  a  few 
lines  with  a  pencil,  but  could  not ;  my  strength 
was  not  sufficient.  I  will  not  write  long  to- 
day. As  I  afti  writing  of  myself,  I  will  tell 
y»u  just  Jiow  I  am,  and  it  may  make  the  bur- 
then of  my  letter.  1  do  not  suffer  much  from 
acute  pain,  but  a  great  deal  from  impeded 
breath,  severe  ct)ughing,  and  extreme  weak- 
ness. They  say  my  face  does  not  change  much  ; 

r-- 

but  my  voice  you  would  not  know.  I  can 
hardly  speak  above  a  whisper.  You  see  I  am 
really  wearing  away,  slowly,  perhaps,  but  sure- 
ly. I  know  your  next  question  will  be, '  And 
how  do  you  feel  about  it  ?'    I  enjoy  myself 

well,  my  dear  Tante  S ,  and  sometimes  I 

think  I  am  happier  than  ever  before.  Of 
course,  the  thoughts  of  death  bring  with  them 
many,  very  many  serious  reflections ;  but  my 
hops  is  etill  alive.  I  have  the  sacraments 
within  my  reach  and  all  that  the  Church  o^n 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


231 


give  me,  and  what  more  can  I  ask  ?  Though 
sometimes  i  wish  for  other  things,  I  have  no 
reason  to  complain.  Anna  is  in  a  room  not 
far  from  me,  and  she,  I  think,  is  gradually- 
losing  her  hold  upon  life.  She  seems  drooping 
like  a  flower,  without  any  apparent  suflfering, 
and  she  says  she  hardly  knows  what  is  causing 
her  to  fail.  We  enjoy  ourselves,  I  can  assure 
you,  the  little  time  they  leave  us  together.- 
She  is  in  the  best  of  spirits  all  the  time,  and 
has  been  through  all  her  illness.  She  says  she 
has  bfeen  praying  for  six  months  for  resigna- 
tion to  bear  my  departure,  but  now  she  thinks 
the  prospect  is  that  she  shall  die  first.    It  is 

hard  to  tell.     I  saw  Sister  C almost 

every  day  while  I  was  in  Burlingtv  %  and  ex- 
pect to  see  her  here  on  Friday.  I  was  able  to 
go  to  the  convent  but  twice,  and  when  I  did, 
it  was  so  hard  to  leave  that  I  had  better  not 
have  gone.  Wednesday  Evening — I  add  a 
few  lines  this  evening.     Since  writing  the 

aboVe,  Father  R has  made  us  quite  a  long 

call.  It  is  my  twenty-second  birthday.  .  I 
shall  hardly  see  another.  You  must  pray  hard 
for  me,  and  request  the  nuns  to  do  the  same." 


I  ; 


233 


THB  YOUNG  C0NV|BRT8. 


Again  she  writes  to  the  same  person : 
Van.  I9th,  1860.  '^  *  I  am  thftnkfal  I  cm 
still  write  you  myself,  instead  of  baTing  some 
one  else  to  do  it  for  me.  Yon  will  e^ense  i^ 
being  written  with  a  pencil,  I  kno^^and  ^ 
glad  with  me  that  the  letter  is  my  own 
writing.  Yonr  letter,  with  its  kind  mj^S8^g6% 
and  words  of  love,  has  been  received  apd.  reM 
with  the  greatest  pleasure.  ''^  *  *  Continue,  I 
beg  of  you,  to  pray  for  my  p^irseyei^ai^ce,  an4 
in  asking  for  myself,  of  cQurse  I  iQ(?lude>  Anniu 
We  continue  about  the  samj3  as  wheji  I  wrot^; 
you  last,  some  days  worse,  and  others  again 
quite  comfortable.  Anna,  I.  think^  will  not 
last  long  ;  her  strength  fails  rapidly.  I  never 
saw  any  one  in  better  spirits..  I  spent  an  hour 
in  her  room  last  evening,  and  she  toljfl  me  l^Q|fr^ 
fast,  her  strength  was  going,  and  how  ^ort  a 
time  she  thought  die  would  live,  with  such  a 
cheerful  countenance,  that  I  thought  to  myself 
it  was  no  matter  how  soon  she  died.  I  dp  not, 
see  so  much  of  Anna  ajS  I  could  wish,  for  se: 
veral  reasons.  One,  is^  I  cannot  bear  the  high 
temperature  at  which  her  room  has  to  be  kjB^t,^ 
and  another,  the  Doctors  say  there  is  too  mnck 


THE  YOUNd  CONVERTS. 


233 


lympathy  between  us  to  make  it  as  well  for  us 
to  be  together ;  these,  with  other  reasons,  keep 
us  a  good  deal  separate.    You  speak,  my  dear 
Tante,  in  your  letier,  of  the  benefit  of  sufier- 
ings  when  united  with  those  of  our  Divine 
Lord.    Truly  this  is  one  of  my  greatest  con- 
solations, to  know  that  not  one  pain  or  one 
sigh  is  lost  or  forgotten  I    You  know  our  Di- 
vine St  viour  always  appeared  more  lovely  to 
me  in  His*  Passion  than  elsewhere,  and  it 
would  be  strange  now  if  I  were  not  willing  to 
suffer  what  He  sends  me  through  His  love.    It 
is  sometimes  hard.    One  is  about  tempted  to 
wish  the  pain  and  anguish  away,  but  again,  I 
find  it  all  pleasant  and  easy.    Last  night  I 
was  awake  nearly  the  whole  night  with  my 
cough  and  fever  ;  but  I  enjoyed  it  as  I  would 
enjoy  rest.    Those  nights  I  often  have,  are  the 
times  when  I  look  over  the  past^  examine  the 
PRESENT,  and  look  forward  to  the  future  /    In 
thinking  of  the  past  the  mercies  of  God  formed 
a  great  part  of  my  thoughts  last  evening,  and 
to-day  the  same  thought  is  uppermost  in  my 
mind.    I  do  not  know  that  I  have  ever  real- 
ized  80  fully  as  now,  how  great  and  how  numer' 


m 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


0U8  thoEe  mercies  have  been  t  If  I  do  not  find 
that  they  have  been  too  dreadfully  misused 
and  abused,  this  is  all  I  fear  ;  but  again, '  His 
mercy  endureth  forever  /'  *  *  *  We  received 
Holy  Communion  together  yesterday  morning, 
Anna  and  myself.  I  never  expect  to  go  out^ 
again  ]  I  thought  I  should  for  a  while^but  the 
doctor  tells  me  he  does  not  think  I  will  live 
through  the  spring  months.  Tell  Sister  J- — 
that  I  shall  hardly  see  her  in  May  as  I  prom-, 
ised,  if  I  were  well,  but  that  I  hope  and  pray 
that  the  Month  devoted^to  our  sweet  Motheo^^ 
will  not  pass  without  seeing  her  consecrated 
to  her  service  forever.  She  must  pray  for  me^ 
Tell  her  to  ask  the  Blessed  Virgin  to.obtaiji 
for  me  all  the  graces  I  so  much  need  now* 

Tell  ma  Tante,  Sr.  B ,  that  the  picture  she , 

shall  surely  have.  I  have;  loved  it  much  fof^> 
itself,  and  much  for  the  g'.ver's  sake,  and  wpuld 
rather  she  should  have  it  than  another.  As 
for  you,  my  dearest  Tante,  I  do  not  know  «?7ta 
to  send  you.  Can  you  not  mention  something 
you  would  like  yourself?  I  am  not  particu- 
larly attached  to  anything  I  have  tiiat  I  know, 
of.    My  crucifix,  my  books,  my  rosarieSj,are 


TBB.rgUl^a  GONYERIS' 


Wi' 


all  J  have  that  you  would  value.    Any  of  theoit 

I  will  send.  you.    Now  my  dear  Sr. ,  I 

must  close  this  ief  tor ;  may  be  it  is  the  last  I 
shall  ever  write  to  you,  perhaps  not ;  but  if  it 
ahotUd  be,  remember  that  the  lieavt  grows 
tmrnu^r  and /oTic^cr  as  life  wanes  and  wears  ^ 
away ;  th^t  if  ever  I  have  felt  a  deep  affection 
for  you  and  for  all  at  the  Congreg^ktion^  it  is 
noWyAndl  will  cherish  it  alway^r   Pray  for 


mOr 


#    «    4|)} 


It  was  indeed  the  last  letter  she  oyer  wrote , 
to  that  dearly  beloved  friend.  Six  days  later 
ghpaddressed  a  little  note  to  the  young  friend 
and  correspondent  in  the  South  part  of  the 
State  (before  alluded  to)|  to  whom  she  had 
not  written  for  some  inonths.  It  was  her  last 
effort  of  the  kind)  and  the  faUering,  unequal 
characters  in  her  handwriting,  (usually  as  cor- 
rect, distinct  and  beautiful  in  itft  execution? 
under  all  circumstances^  as  any  I  havo  ever 
Been,)  give  eyidence  of  the  difficulty  with  which 
it  was  performed,, 

"  St.  Albans,  Jam  25thi  lS5B^-^Dear : 

Yott maybe )Burprifled, lo jrec^ye a hiW  from 


286 


THE  YODXO   CONVERTS. 


me,  but  I  felt  that  on  the  strength  of  our 
former  correspondence,  I  ought  to  let  you  know 
Bome  facts  which  may  surprise  you  very  much, 
unless  you  have  already  heard  through  some 
other  source.  Our  dear  Anna  is  just  going 
with  quick  consumption.  We  look  for  her 
death  at  any  time.  She  is  confined  to  her  bed, 
and  has  been  to  her  room,  for  three  months. 
She  is  showing  in  her  last  days,  what  the 
Catholic  religion  can  do,  in  preparing  a  soul 
for  what  awaits  us  all.  I  cannot  add  good 
news  even  here  from  myself.  You  may  b© 
more  surprised  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  tod  am 
confined  to  my  room  with  the  same  disease, 
only  that  it  seems  to  make  slower  progress 
than  Anna's  has.  My  cough  has  been  bad 
since  last  May,  and  in  October  I  had  an  attack 
of  spitting  blood,  and  another  in  November. 
I  have  not  been  down  stairs  since  New  Year's 
day.  It  is  very  hard  for  me  to  write,  so  you 
must  excuse  the  style,  and  the  short  letter.  I 
thought  you  would  like  to  hear  and  I  have 
managed  to  scribble  a  few  lines.  I  am  in  the 
best  of  spirits,  and  am  only  waiting  until  our 


■WM 


THB  TOUNO   CONVBRTd. 


U1 


I  I 


dear  Lord  comes  to  Utke  me  away.  Pray  for 
us!  My  love  to  your  sisters.  *  *  Anna  sends 
much  love.  *  *  Youp  true  firiend,  Dsbqib." 

Though  Debbie  did  not  sink  very  rapidly, 
yet  were  her  sufferings  much  more  severe  than 
is  usual  in  consumption.    She  had  during  the 
remainder  of  her  life  frequent  paroxysms  of 
agonidng  distress.    The  same  week  that  the 
foregoing  letter  was  written,  I  saw  the  sisters 
together  f(»r  the  last  time.    Upon  entering 
iUina's  room  I  expressed  my  agreeable  sur 
prise,  to  find  them  both  there !    Debbie  ^d 
she  was  there  by  special  invitation.    "Tes," 
said  Anna,  "I  announced  to  her  yesterday  that 
if  she  wottld'be  very  good  she  should  dine  with . 
me.  to^lay ;  so  this  morning  I  sent  my  comj^ir 
ments  requesting  the  pleasure  of  her  company 
at  my  house  to  dinper .''    Just  at  tluit  moment . 
their  mother  came  in  with  a  servant  carrying; 
the  salv^.  upon  which  was  their  dinner.  Drawr  > 
ing  the  table  to  the  side  of  Anna's  bed,.Debbi&) 
was.drawa  in  her  chair  to  it,  wjiile;her  mother, 
arranged  the  <!overs  upoa  it,  and  the  debcacies 
which  she  had  prepf$red  with  her  own^  haudsr. 
hoping  tQ  tempt  their  appetites.    The  whole 


I  > 


THR  YOUNQ   C0NVRRT8. 

Bcepe  in  that  sick  room,  it  may  be  readily  im- 
agined, was  most  affecting,  but  nothing  went 
to  my  heart  like  the  tender  earnestness  with 
which  that  mother  urged  them  to  partake  of 
what  she  had  taken  so  much  pains  to  cook  and 
season,  as  they  "  nsed  to  like  it ;"  and  the  ex- 
pression of  disappointed  sadness,  with  which 
she  watched  their  ineffectual  efforts  to  gratify 
her  by  complying  with  her  request.  It  brought 
back  corresponding  experiences  of  my  own,  in 
"  the  days  of  the  years  gone  by,"  so  forcibly, 
that  I  could  hardly  keep  a  cheerful  counten- 
ance. How  many  mothers  will  sympathize 
from  their  hearts  with  those  emotions !  Anna 
inquii*ed  with  affectionate  interest  after  all  her 
young  friends  whom  I  knew,  and  added,  "  Tell 
Mary,"  (who  was  absent  at  school,)  "  that  she 
must  write  me  one  of  her  own  cheerful  funny 
letters,  such  as  she  always  has;"  (they  had  been 
correspondents  for  gome  time,  and  the  artless 
originality  of  Anna's  letter  had  furnished  us 
with  much  amusement,)  "  she  need  not  feel  as 
if  she  must  be  gloomy  and  aad  because  I  am 
soon  going  away  I"  "  She  does  not  feel  so  on 
your  account,  by  any  means,  my  child,"  I  re- 


••i^a 


^ttMOT 


THR    YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


989 


plied :  "  her  grief,  like  that  of  all  your  friends, 
is  selfish.    Wo  think  of  what  loe  aro  to  fosc, 
more  than  of  what  you  will  gain !"   She  spoke 
with  earnest  simplicity  of  her  feelings  as  death 
was  approaching  ;  of  the  plcnsure  she  antici- 
pated in  meeting  her  beloved  sister,  and  seemed 
to  have  an  impression  that  Helen  would  bo 
permitted  to  conduct  her  soul  "as  it  loft  this 
world,  and  to  unfold  before  it  the  mysteries  of 
another,  as  she  and  Uebbie  had  instructed  her 
here,  in  those  of  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  upon 
earth.  The  suflferings  of  her  last  sickness  were 
not  very  severe,  except  from  daily  increasing 
faintness  and  difliculty  of  breathing,  when  {?he 
was  placed  in  any  position  that  would  seem  to 
be  easy.    This  increased  to  such  a  degree  that 
for  many  days  before  her  departure,  it  was  im- 
possible for  her  to  breathe  with  any  support 
whatever  aroimd  her ;  she  could  not  oven  per^ 
mit  a  hand  to  be  applied  to  uphold  her  weary 
head,  but  sat  perfectly  erect,  unsupported  by 
pillows  or  other  appliances  until  exhausted  na- 
tui'O  yielded.    The  only  utterance  like  a  com- 
plaint that  ever  passed  her  lips  was  the  faint 
expression, "  I  am  so  tired  1"  and  then  she  would 


I 


^i^{ 


^<'' 
■  M 


1^,. 


f 

340 


THR  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


sraile  sweetly  and  reprove  in  herself,  what  she 
called  her  "impatience." 

On  Friday  afternoon  previous  to  her  death, 
Debbie  was  carried  into  her  room  for  the  last 
time.  Their  first  eager  questions  of  eacli 
other  were  to  ascertain  their  mutual  feelings, 
now  tl\at  death  was  so  near  at  hand.  Having 
conyersed  together  more  than  an  hour  and  as- 
sured themselves  that  all  was  peace  in  that 
i^pect,  Debbie  proposed  that  they  should  re- 
cite their  beads  together  once  again,  which 
they  did  with  such  a  degree  of  fervor  as  be- 
fitted the  time  and  the  circumstances,  and  with 
the  serenity  and  recollection  of  spirits  linger- 
ing upon  the  confines  of  time,  perfectly  pre- 
pared to  pass  them  at  any  moment  into  eter- 
nity. It  was  one  of  the  most  impressive 
scenes  that  was  ever  presented  in  a  chamber 
of  death,  and  overpowering  in  its  beautiful 
pathos  to  all  who  witnessed  it.  At  the  close 
of  the  holy  exercise,  they  smilingly  and  lov- 
ingly kissed,  and  parted.  As  the  affectionate 
"Good  byel"  was  exchanged,  Debbie  remarked, 
"  We  shall  meet  again  so  soon,  dearest,  that  we 
shall  hardly  know  we  have  separated  at  all  I" 


..^ 


THI  YOUNO  CONVERTS, 


'Ml 


I    I 


tind  was  carried  back  to  hor  room.  A  cheeriul, 
tearless  parting  between  two  angelic  spirits 
— the  tearful  sighs  of  poor  humanity  floating  ■ 
unnoticed  around  them  the  while  t  From  Sa-  \ 
turday.  morning,  the  tenth  of  March,  at  nine 
o'clock,  when  a  change  took  place,  which  she 
supposed  was  the  final  one,  until  she  ceased  to 
breathe,  twenty-four  hours  later,  an  expression 
of  glowing  rapture  settled  upon  Anna's  Som, 
which  never  left  it,  and  was  the  most  perfect 
illustration  of  the  idea  conveyed  in  the  term 
"  Seraphy*  of  anything  I  have  ever  beheld. 
The  hat  change,  when  it  really  came,  was  but 
momentary,  but  perfectly  understood  by  her. 
Casting  a  parting  look  of  smiling  love  for  a 
moment  upon  each  person  in  the  room,  she 
bowed  her  head,  and  was  gone  I  Not  tho 
slightest  struggle,  net  even  the  quiver  of  a 
muscle  betrayed  the  moment  when  that  pure 
spirit  took  its  flight!  And  Anna  was  with 
Helen  I  How  we  longed  to  look  "  beyond  tho 
veil"  and  witness  that  meeting!  It  seemed 
as  if  Debbie  did  see  it,  for  her  spirit  was  too 
much  absorbed  in  its  joys  to  be  shaded  by  one 
regret.    Though  Anna's  plans  for  this  world 


21 


242 


THE   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


1 


were  so  arranged  as  to  open  every  prospect  of 
happiness  to  her  future  which  her  young  heart 
could  desire,  yet  she  accepted  the  call  to  an- 
other in  the  same  spirit  of  joyous  resignation 
with  which  her  sisters  received  it ;  the  only 
cloud  that  obscured  its  brightness  for  a  mo- 
ment being  the  thought,  that  the  destiny  of 
another  would  be  overshadowed  by  her  early 
departure.  The  funeral  services  were  per- 
ibrmed  by  the  Pastor  of  St.  Albans.  Our 
Right  Rev.  Bishop  went  the  day  before  to 
that  place,  intending  to  officiate  upon  the  occa- 
sion, but  was  taken  very  ill  the  previous  night, 
and  was  consequently  unable  to  fulfill  that  in- 
tention. 

The  last  weeks  of  Debbie's  life  were  at- 
tended by  severe  and  constantly  increasing 
suffering.  She  could  not  lie  down  at  alL 
or  even  recline  in  her  chair.  Her  head  was 
bowed  down,  (as  if  to  assimilate  her  entirely 
to  her  Divine  Master  in  every  circumstance  of 
His  Passion  and  Death,  which  had  so  long 
formed  the  dearest  theme  of  all  her  medita- 
tions and  devotions,)  and  drawn  by  contrac- 
tion  of  the  muscles  towards  the  left  side,  until 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


243 


her  face  could  be  seen  only  by  kneeling  very 
low  at  her  right  side,  and  looking  up  into  it  I 
Her  voice  was  so  entirely  gone  that  her  words 
were  uttered  in  a  faint  whisper.  But  those 
"  Angel  whisperings,"  mil  they  ever  be  forgot- 
ten by  those  who  listened  to  them  ?  Early  in 
Holy  Week  it  was  thought  she  was  dying. 
At  her  request  the  fact  was  communicated  to 

her  beloved  Tante,  Sr. ,  now  at  Montreal. 

Many  messages  of  love  went  with  it,  from  her 
to  that "  best  friend  who,"  to  use  her  own  lan- 
guage, "loved  my  soul  because  Jesus  Christ 
died  to  save  it ;  who  cared  for  it,  prayed  for 
it,  before  I  had  learned  to  care  for  it  myself 
or  appreciate  its  value."  She  also  sent  lov- 
ing messages  to  the  whole  community,  request- 
ing their  prayers  for  the  soul  of  their  depart- 
ing child,  and  expressing  the  joy  it  would 
have  given  her  to  see  her  dear  Tante  once 
again.  The  Mother  Superior  immediately  tele- 
graphed to  know  if  it  would  be  any  comfort 

to  her  to  have  Sr. come  to  her?   A  reply 

in  the  affirmative  was  despatched,  and  in  less 
than  an  hour  after  its  receipt,  that  Sister,  ac- 
companied by  another,  was  on  her  way  to  St. 


w 


244 


TBI  TOlfNO   CONYERfS. 


Albans,  to  attend  the  last  hours  of  her  darling- 
child  ;  a  blessing  as  unexpected  by  Debbie  as 
it  T^as  unprecedented,  none  of  the  Older  bar- 
ing eyer  left  the  Convent  before  upon  such  an 
errand,  their  vocatioh  being  simply  to  teach. 
Debbie  could  not  express  her  gratitude  for 
the  favor.  It  was  an  unspeakable  comfort  to 
her  to  see  her  dear  Tante,  who  was  entirely 
overcome  to  find  her  child  thus,  sujSering  so 
much,  more  than  she  had  expected!  Sho 
Knelt  by  her  side  and  wept  bitterly,  while  in 
faint  whispers,  such  expressions  as  these  were 
breathed  into  her  ear,  "  Is  it  possible  my  own 
eyes  s^  e  once  again  in  this  world  my  sweet 

Tante  Sr. ,*  mon  ange,  mon  oiseau  gris?" 

(a  name  she  had  given  her,  in  the  happy  days 
at  St.  Eustache,  because  her  complexion  was 
Blighi^j  frecMedj)  and  many  other  terms  of 
endearment,  which  I  cannot  now  recall,  by 
which  it  had  been  her  cup  >m  to  address  her 
beloved  friend.  The  Sisters  had  permission 
to  stay  two  days,  at  the  close  of  which,  on 

Good  Friday  morning,  they  reluctantly  left  her, 
under  the  strong  impression  tL>t  she  would 

•  My  Angel !  my  Gray-bird  I 


THE  YOUNO   OONYEBTS. 


245 


not  live  through  that  day.  Soon  after  they 
left,  a  singular  change,  unusual  in  consumption, 
took  place.  Dropsical  symptoms  supervened, 
(at  the  period  when  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances dissolution  would  have  closed  her  suf- 
ferings,) attended  of  course  with  distressing 
swelling  of  tho  limbs  and  body,  and  causing  a 
partial  diversion  of  the  disease  from  the  lungs, 
which  arj-ested  its  progress  there,  without  re- 
lieving the  suffocating  pressure  upon  them. 
She  lingered  thus,  in  those  fearful  pangs  which 
usually  belong  only  to  the  last  hour,  until 
her  departure  on  the  morning  of  Easter  Mon- 
day, April  ninth,  at  seven  o^cIock.  I  yas  so 
favored  as  to  be  with  her  from  the  afternoon 
of  Good  Friday,  until  her  dear  form  was  pre- 
pared for  its  last  resting  place.  Though  her 
mind  wavered  slightly  at'  intervals,  yet  she 
was  at  any  time,  (save  in  one  instance  to  be 
mentioned  hereafter,)  easily  drawn  to  under- 
stand clearly  to  the  very  last,  every  circum- 
stance of  her  own  situation  and  of  every  tiling 
around  her.  She  frequently  desired  me  to 
read  the  prayers  for  the  departing,  the  Litany 
of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  portions  of  psalms,  and 


246 


THK  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


sucb  other  devotions  from  time  to  time,  as  her 
strength  would  permit  her  to  join  in — which 
she  did,  in  the  midst  of  her  agonies,  with  the 
most  edifying  fervor.  Not  the  least  interest- 
ing part  of  a  scene  which  though  harrowing 
as  to  its  anguish,  was  still  glorious  in  its  tri- 
umphs, was  the  course  her  pure  thoughts  took, 
even  in  their  wanderings.  She  was  ever  in 
some  holy  place,  before  the  altars  she  loved  so 
well,  pouring  forth  her  fervent  prayers ;  or  in 
the  company  of  the  Reverend  Clergy,  or  pious 
nuns,  offering  them  fruits  and  refreshments ; 
sometimes  she  was  busy  in  preparing  clothing 
for  the  poor,  ministering  to  their  wants,  and 
expressing  the  deepest  love  for  them  and  sym- 
pathy in  tlieir  sufferings.  Her  perfect  con- 
formity to  the  will  of  God  remained  serenely 
firm  to  her  last  breath,  and  she  repeatedly 
called  upon  us  to  pray,  not  that  she  might 
have  one  pain  less,  not  for  the  slightest  dimi- 
nution of  her  anguish,  but, "  0,  for  a  great 
deal  mare  patience  I"  We  could  not  conceive 
how  more  could  be  added  to  a  patience  al- 
ready SQi  perfect  1  She  was  constantly  kissing 
the  crucifix,  and  breathing  utterances  of  dd- 


THR  YOUNO  CONVERTS. 


24*7 


voted  love  for  her  dying  Redeemer;  calling 
upon  us  all  to  love  Him  for  her,  and  to  draw 
the  love  of  all  hearts  to  Him,  to  compensate 
for  the  imperfections  of  her  love.  She  also 
told  us  again  and  again,  to  be  sure  not  to 
speak  of  her  when  she  was  gone  as  a  glorified 
Baint;  or  as  rejoicing  with  the  Just, ''  for,"  said 
she,  "  when  you  speak  of  me  in  that  way,  it  is 
because  you  do  not  know  my  faults,  my  ex- 
ceeding sinfvlnesa,  and  if  you  allow  youi> 
selves  to  do  it,  you  will  forget  to  pray  for 
me!  I  want  to  entreat  you  to  remember,  that 
I  shall  need  your  prayers^  and  that  if  I  am  so 
happy  as  to  gain  a  place  in  purgatory,  it  is  all 
I  can  expect  I"  She  of^  \  said,  "  Now  I  know 
what  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  die  a  Catholic  I 
I  never  before  realized  it  as  I  do  now  1  0, 
why  was  /  so  favored  as  to  be  made  a  child 
cV  the  Church,  when  so  many  who  seem  so 
much  more. worthy,  are  left  to  perish  outside 
of  the  One  Fold  whose  Shepherd  is  our  great 
Redeemer  i"  It  would  fill  pages,  were  I  to  re- 
cord the  sweet  expressions  of  gratitude,  piety, 
and  resignation,  which  were  constantly  falling 
from  her  lips,  and  all  with  such  childlike  sim- 


•  f 


\  . 


248 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


plicity  and  entire  absence,  most  evidently,  of 
any  motive  save  the  glory  of  God,  that  no 
one  could  hear  them  unmoved.    Her  physi- 

'  cian,  (whose  attendance  was  most  devoted 
and  kind,)  though  differing  from  her  in  reli- 
gion, was  often  deeply  affected  by  the  beauty 
of  her  character,  and  the  spirit  in  which  she 
endured  her  almost  unprecedented  sufferings. 
On  the  morning  of  Easter  Sunday,  before 

'the  gas-lights  were  extinguished  in  her  room, 
and  when  the  first  rays  of  light  began  to  ap- 
pear, though  they  were  still  so  faint  that  no 
one  in  the  room  had  noticed  them,  (her  chair 
being  so  placed  that  she  faced  the  East,)  she 
whispered  to  me,  "  It  is  the  dawn  of  the  day 
on  the  morning  of  the  Resurrection!"  then 

smiling  sweetly  she  added,  "  The  women  were 
very  early  at  the  Sepulchre,  but  the  men  were 
not  there,  and  the  women  were  the  first  to  be- 
lieve in  His  Resurrection  1"  At  seven  o'clock 
that  morning  we  thought  she  was  going,  the 
family  were  called  in,  and  she  took  an  affec- 
tionate leave  of  each  one.  She  then  requested 
me  to  say  " We  fly  to  thy  patronage"  etc. 
and  the  Litany  of  the  Blessed  Virgin,  which  I 


I 


THB  TOUNO  COmrBKTS. 


249 


did,  feeling  that  it  was  the'last  time  that  her 
pure  spirit  would  be  united  with  ours  in  pious 
supplications  this  side  of  etern'ty.  She  joined 
with  great  fervor ;  and  although  we  united  in 
prayers  for  her  several  times  after  that,  when 
she  was  conscious  that  we  were  doing  so,  she 
was  too  mu'^h  exhausted  to  join  us  outwardly. 
She  hoped  to  depart  on  Easter  Sunday,  and 
we  had  repeatedly  assured  L ^r  that  we  thought 
she  would  be  permitted  to,  but  the  hours 
passed  on,  and  she  was  still  lingering  in  the 
very  embrace  of  death.  Late  in  the  evening 
she  looked  at  mo,  while  such  a  mournful  shade 
flitted  over  her  dear  features  as  I  can  never 
forget,  and  sobbed  in  shuddering  agony  raf  her 
than  uttered  in  words,  "  It  seems  as  if  our 
dear  Lord  loves  to  see  me  suflfer  with  Him  I" 
and  at  the  samt3  moment  the  shade  vanished, 
and  a  rapturous  smile  glowed  upon  her  coun- 
tenance, as  she  kissed  the  crucifix,  ever  in  her 
hand,  and  breathed,  ^  Blessed  forever  be  His 
holy  will!"  I  exhorted  her  to  oflfer  every 
pain  she  endured,  in  union  with  the  sufferings 
of  her  Redeener,  to  procure  the  conversioii  of 
those  for  whom  she,  and  her  sweet  sisters,  had 


260 


THE  YOUKG   C0KVERT8. 


been  praying  bo  long.  She  replied  eagerly, 
"  I  do,  all  the  time ;  I  am  ofifering  them,  and 
I  am  willing  to  suflfer  everytldng^  1 1  can  only 
gain  that  treasure  for  them  1"  Her  mother 
had  remained  with  unflinching  fortitude  and 
constancy  by  her  side  through  all  those  weary 
days!  By  night  and  by  day  had  her  gen- 
tle ministrations  been  exercised  with  untiring 
firmness,  and  while  the  cheerful  patience,  the 
resignation,  and  piety  of  the  daughter,  were 
ttiatters  of  wonder  to  her  as  to  all  who  wit- 
nessed them,  the  calm  endurance  of  that  mo- 
ther  unr'icr  all  the  crushing  sorrows  of  the 
scene,  was  a  still  greater  surprise  to  me.  I 
expressed  it  to  her,  and  she  said,  "  My  daugh- 
ters have  jyrepared  me  for  it ;  they  have  forti- 
fied me  by  their  counsels,  and  have  obtained 
support  for  me  by  their  prayers  I"  adding  that 
she  was  surprised  at  herself,  when  she  thought 
how  impossible  it  would  once  have  been  for 
her,  even  to  have  contemplated  without  entire 
dismay,  the  scenes  through  which  she  was  now 
passing  so  calmly.  Debbie  could  not  bear  to 
have  her  out  of  her  sight ;  though  she  was  fear- 
ful lest  her  health  might  suffer  from  such  con- 


THE  YOUiVO  CONVERTS. 


251 


fitant  attendance,  yet  her  presence  was  a  com- 
fort she  needed  so  much,  that  she  could  not 
bring  herself  to  dispense  with  it.    The  last 
night,  however,  she  noticed  that  her  mother 
was  much  exhausted,  and  insisted  that  she 
should  go  to  her  own  room  and  take  some  rest, 
quieting  her  fears  about  leaving  her  with  ten- 
der assurances  that  she  should  be  very  com- 
fortable and  would  send  for  her  if  she  was  not. 
She  then  made  her  own  arrangements  as  to  the 
attendants  who  should  remain  in  her  room, 
two  tender  and  faithful  Catholic  nurses,  one  of 
whom  had  been  with  the  sisters  through  the 
winter,  and  the  other  for  some  weeks  ;  while 
her  father  and  myself  remained  just  outside 
the  door  of  her  apartment  to  be  ready  at  any 
moment  if  needed.    She  made  every  effort  to 
be  quiet  and  contented,  but  exhausted  nature 
wavered  when  the  arm  of  the  mother  was 
withdrawn,  and  her  mind  became  for  the  first 
time  so  completely  bewildered  that  we  could 
not  soothe  or  pacify  her.    The  presence  of  her 
mother  again  seemed  to  compose  her  at  once. 
Those  who  were  present  will  each  remember, 
I  am  sure,  to  their  dying  day,  the  expression 


''f 


\  t 


262 


THR  TOVNO  COMVEBTS. 


of  her  countenance  when  her  mother  re-ap- 
peared, and  the  loving  epithets  with  which 
she  addressed  her !  I  never  saw  any  manifes' 
tations  more  touching  and  affectionate  than 
those  she  constantly  showed  for  her  parents. 
She  had  often  assured  me  when  she  was  in 
health,  that  the  only  reed  and  bitter  trial  of 
her  life  as  a  Catholic,  had  been,  that  her  con- 
victions of.  duty  required  her  so  to  act  as  to 
give  her  parents  pain. 

About  twenty  minutes  before  she  ceased  to 
breathe  she  desired  to  be  laid  on  the  bed 
quickly,  which  was  done.  Just  after  she  was 
there  she  was  wrung  with  a  sharp  agony,  and 
the  crucifix  slipped  from  her  hand  at  the  same 
time  thai;  we  thought  she  had  breathed  her  last, 
but  the  next  moment  she  gasped  for  breath, 
and  threw  out  her  right  hand  as  if  seeking  for 
something.  The  Crucifix  was  placed  in  it, 
and  her  last  effort  was  to  clasp  it  to  her  heart, 
and  I  heard  her  utter  the  names  Jesus  I  Mary  1 
Joseph !  with  that  last  breath  which  followed 
the  effort.  There  were  six  Catholics  kneeling 
at  the  foot  of  her  bed  and  praying  for  her. 
For  some  minutes  after  she  ceased  to  breathe 


THB   YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


263 


I    I 


the  silence  was  so  deep  in  that  apartment  of 
death,  that  we  dared  not  disturb  it  even  with 
our  sobbings — the  indulgence  of  even  the  most 
sacred  emotions  of  poor  humanity  seemed  to 
us  like  irreyerence  in  such  a  presence!  At 
length  the  heart-stricken  mother  jaid  gently 
and  calmly,  with  uplifted  eyes,  "Another  trea- 
sure gone  before  I  Her  last  words  t.*  me  w  e, 
'  Mother,  you  muat  be  submissive !'  and  I  will 
try  to  be ;  but  how  can  I  live  without  my 
daughters  /"  For  the  rest  of  ua,  we  felt  th,  t  v  a 
had  accompanied  a  youthful  saint  to  the  Gates 
of  Paradise,  and  that  glimpses  of  that  "  prom- 
ised land"  had  been  revealed  to  us  through 
the  opened  portals,  as  she  passed  them  to  her 
rest  I  May  we  ever  remember  those  glimpses  t 
Four  weeks  and  one  day  after  Anna's  depar- 
ture, Debbie  also  withdrew  to  j^  i".  the  two  sis- 
ters whose  souls  she  had  first  led  to  consider 
the  things  which  pertained  to  their  salvation 
and  peace,  and  the  three  now  sleep  side  by 
side  in  the  village  cemetery. 

Requiem  sBteraam  dona  eia  Domine ! 
Et  lux  perpetua  luceat  eis ! 

The  Bishop  of  Burlington  performed  tlio 

Da 


\ » 


254 


THE   YOUNG    CONVERTS. 


funeral  ser\  Ices  at  the  church,  and  delivered  a 
most  affecting  and  appropriate  discourse,  em- 
bodying many  of  the  details,  which  I  have  en- 
deavored, though  with  imperfect  success,  to 
record.  The  Pastor  of  Fairfield  officiated  at 
the  grave,  and  consigned  the  mortal  remains 
of  his  spiritual  child,  "Ashes  unto  ashes,  dust 
unto  dust  I"  in  the  hope  of  a  glorious  resurrec- 
tion. To  him  I  am  touch  indebted  for  encour- 
agement and  aid  in  the  prosecution  of  my  task. 
Speaking  of  which,  in  a  letter  to  me,  he  says, 
"  I  need  not  assure  you  that  it  gave  me  the 
greatest  satisfaction  to  know  that  you  were 
writing  a  sketch  of  the  edifying  lives  of  my 
children,  (I  love  to  call  them  such,)  for  I  was 
their  confidential  friend  besides  being  their 
confessor  and  guide,  according  to  the  little 
light  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  give  me.  *  * 
The  dates  of  their  baptism  I  suppose  you 
ha/e.  *  *  *  For  the  rest,  I  do  not  think  the 
task  will  be  a  hard  one  to  write  their  lives, 
with  the  assistance  conveyed  through  the  spirit 
which  pervades  their  simple  and  sincere  writ- 
ings ;  the  last  one  especially.  Do  not  fear  to 
say  that  her  heart  was  the  very  sanctuary  of 


;  ". 


,) 


THE    YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


255 


I 


purity  and  innocence  1  Above  all,  write  my 
testimony  as  to  her  love  for  our  Divine  Lord  in 
His  adorable  Sacrament.  There  was  scarcely 
a  day  that  she  did  not  spend  an  hour  in  our 
lowly  church,  all  alone  save  the  presence  of 
the  Saviour  she  loved  so  much,  and  the  blessed 
Angels  who  continually  minister  unto  Him  in 
His  holy  sanctuary.  And  the  edification  with 
wl^ch  her  presence  inspired  our  young  people 
especially,  in  her  reception  of  the  sacraments, 
will,  I  trust,  never  be  forgotten.  So  full  of 
faith,  of  recollection  was  my  poor  child.  I 
know  her  fervent  prayers  will  be  offered  to 
our  Divine  Lord  and  His  Blessed  Mother  for 
your  good  intentions  in  writing  those  pious  re- 
flfictions  upon  her  life,  for  I  am  certain  it  will 
be  II  source  of  much  good  for  our  young  peo- 
ple. Not  that  poor  Debbie  dreamed  that  her 
virtues  should  thus  be  recorded.  No  1  for  her 
it  is  sufficient  that  they  are  recorded  by  her 
loved  Saviour  Himself  in  the  Book  of  Eternal 
Life.  Besides  her  love  to  the  Blessed  Sacra- 
ment, her  next  pre-eminent  virtue  was  charity 
towards  others.  I  have  never  known  her  guilty, 
even  once,  of  injuring  in  the  least  the  character 


266 


TBS  TOUNO  CONVERTS. 


of  another.  Do  not  think  I  exaggerate^  Who 
should  know  those  sisters  if  I  did  not,  who 
was  their  director  and  correspondent  ever  since 
their  baptism.  May  God  bless  your  work,  and 
may  it  be  the  fruitful  means  of  leading  many 
another  pure  soul  to  Heaven  I''  Debbie^s  be- 
loved "  Tante,"  S ,  also  writes  to  me,  "  I 

forget  if  I  told  you  what  our  sweet  Debbie 
said  the  day  she  gave,  me  a  Souvenir.    '  My 

own  Tante,  S ,  you  have  the  first  choice 

of  everything  I  have ;  you  have  been  my  best 
friend.  Yes,  indeed,  so  if  there  is  anything 
that  belongs  to  me  which  can  please  you,  be 
sure  you  shall  have  itf  1  answered,  I  did 
not  care  for  anything  in  particular,  but  I 
would  cherish  anything  she  liked  ike  most. 
She  smiled  and  said,  '  Ma  Tante,  you  should 
know  that  I  am  not  attached  to  anything  on 
earth ;  but  what  I  value  most  is  my '  Following 
of  r^hrist,'  for  that  dear  little  book  has  been  a 
source  of  g^eat  consolation  to  me  in  my  Utth 
tricds,  I  know  you  would  like  to  have  a  cross 
that  belonged  to  your  child  ;  well,  the  one  I 
value  most  is  this,'  giving  me  the  cross  you 
saw ;  '  now  ma  Tante,  if  these  things  plea3e 


THE   TOUNO   CONVERTS. 


26t 


f  i 


you,  you  must  take  them  and  anything  else  you 
would  like  to  have.'  I  told  her  I  was  satisfied 
with  these  souvenirs.  I  relate  this,  that  you 
may  know  how  far  she  carried  her  detachment 
of  all  earthly  affections ;  this  virtue  is  admira- 
ble in  one  so  young.  The  dear  child !  I  have 
the  picture  of  her  virtues  constantly  before  my 
mind.  You  know  she  never  had  a  secret  from 
me  ;  her  heart  was  opened  to  me  as  a  book  in 
which  I  could  read  all  her  life  and  character." 
In  delineating  the  dispositions  and  habits  of 
these  sisters,  it  is  interesting  to  note  their  sin- 
gular diversity,  while  upon  every  phase  of  that 
diversity  even,  young  as  they  were,  the  seal 
of  peculiarities  which  mark  the  descendants  of 
the  Puritans  was  set  with  vivid  distinctness. 
We  may  especially  note  in  them  the  firmness, 
the  free  and  independent  tone  of  thought  and 
action,  which  distinguish  that  part  of  the  race 
in  our  own  Vermont,  which  has  emerged  from 
the  bondage  of  the  strait-laced  whims  of  their 
ancestors.  It  should  open  the  eyes  of  tliose  who 
have  given  credence  to  the  false  assertion  that 
the  Catholic  religion  enslaves  the  intellect,  to 
see  that  it  is  among  characters  of  this  stamp, 


358 


THE  TOUNO  CONYSim. 


both  old  and  young,  that  the  conqnests  of  the 
Church  are  achieved,  and  her  choicest  trea- 
sures gathered  I  It  is  Protestaniism  that  faa- 
tens  the  iron  fetters  of  human  opinion  upon 
its  subjects,  instead  of  the  law  of  God,  and 
under  this  cruel  bondage  they  are  held  (and 
forced  to  hold  themselves,)  responsible  for 
their  opinions  and  actions  to  their  miserable 
fellow-worms  rather  than  to  their  Maker.  If 
any  one  doubts  it,  let  him  presume  so  far  upon 
his  right  to  act  for  himself,  as  to  leave  their 
ranks  and  join  those  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
He  will  soon  find  what  liberty  of  (xmsdence 
means,  under  their  interpretation.  It  may  bo 
thought  that  I  have  presented  the  religious  life 
and  experiences  of  the  sisters,  and  the  closing 
scenes  of  each,  together  with  their  expressions 
of  pious  sentiments,  ^too  well  exemplified  in 
their  lives  and  deaths  to  be  suspected  of  being 
mere  sentiments,)  with  too  much  minuteness. 
I  have  just  been  reading  the  Memoirs  of  a 
celebrated  lady  in  fashionable  luC;  and  I  find 
in  her  much  admirod  letters,  fiir  mora  copious 
and  minute  descriptions  of  worldly  assemblies ; 
of  the  splendor  of  drawing-rooms,  the  glitter 


IHB  YOVxVO  C0NVERT8. 


259 


i    I 


of  courts,  magnificent  dresses,  jewels,  and  eqoi- 
pages  of  royalty  and  its  attendants,  than  are 
given  in  these  extracts  from  the  letters  of  our 
beloved  young  friends  of  the  assemblies  of  the 
just,  the  joys  of  devotion,  and  the  "  priceless 
pearls''  of  Heaven,  that  shine  for  another 
purpose  here ;  resplendent  ornaments  of  the 
Spouse  of  Christ,  which,  unlike  those  of  this 
world,  shall  glow  with  ever-increasing  lustre  in 
those  heavenly  courts,  of  which  the  grea+^st 
pomp  and  glory  of  earthly  palaces,  can  furnish 
but  the  most  remote  conception!  Shall  the 
"  children  of  this  world"  be  listened  to  with  in- 
terest while  they  expatiate  upon  the  things  per- 
taining to  "  their  generation,"  and  the  "  chil- 
dren of  light"  be  heard  with  listless  indiffer- 
ence and  fatigue  while  dwelling  upon  those 
pertaining  to  theirs?  Heaven  forbid  1  We 
know  that  the  former  class  will  d*;cm  tlie  zeal 
of  our  beloved  ones  misguided.  Their  devo- 
tion will  be  called  fanaticism  ;  their  faith  su- 
perstition ;  their  religion  a  delusion,  and  their 
t^ttention  to  the  great  concerns  of  Eternity  :£ 
unneccessary  occupation  of  time.  The  Com- 
piler of  these  Memoirs  has  many  acquaintances 


Kmrnvrm^. 


960 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


\Xx-r. 


among  those  who  live  for  thie  ivo'ii  only ; 
who  regard  all  attention  (I  mean  such  attP!!- 
tion  as  thoy  give  to  raatt  rs  wliich  really  in- 
terest them,)  to  the  f  iTairs  of  another  as  use- 
less ;  and  who,  whatever  their  outward  profeg- 
eion  in  the  various  Piotesiani  premises  may- 
be, an  \  whatever  their  inmo  st  iliougbts  o«  ;.iie 
matter  really  are,  live  as  if  they  did  not  believe 
in  tlvj  c'Msiimce  of  another.  Yet  I  have  never 
hofj'd  their  ardent  zeal  in  conforming  to  the 
prevailing  fashions  called  misguided ;  their 
anxious  provision  for  splendid  iiouses,  furni- 
ture, and  equipages,  their  twistings  and  turn- 
ings, (in  many  instances,)  to  make  limited 
means  reach  the  elegancies  and  luxuries  which 
only  large  incomes  should  be  expected  to  fur- 
nish, denounced  as  fanaticism ;  or  their  devoted 
attendance  upon  all  the  modern  methods  of 
"killing  time"  and  displaying  expensive  finery, 
charactej-ized  as  a  waste  of  time  or  money,  by 
those  who  set  so  high  an  estimate  upon  the 
former  as  to  tremble,  lest  some  of  its  precious 
hours  should  be  bestowed  upon  vf^JIgious  ob- 
servanceg,  and  suffer  great  anx.v  lest  gome 
smal'    ^mas  of  the  latter  cUm     be  diverted 


THE  YOUNG  CONVERTS. 


261 


I  I 


from  "  painting  butterflies'  wings,"  to  clothing 
and  feeding  orphans.  Alas  I  alas!  If  these 
disciples  of  the  world  should  find  hereafter 
that  they  have  made  a  fatal  mistake  I — if  it 
should  appear  that  their  opinions  did  not  over- 
rule the  decrees  of  Omnipotence,  did  not  even 
alter  them  one  iota! — that  God,  by  His  re- 
vealed will  did  require  of  theip  the  perform- 
ance of  duties  which  they  have  neglected — that 
they  have  been  greater  enthusiasts  than  those 
whom  they  condemn,  but  in  a  wrong  direction, 
offensive  to  God — that  in  their  horror  of  super- 
stition or  believing  too  much,  they  have  really 
rejected  truths,  their  reception  of  which  He 
has  affixed  as  an  indispensable  condition  to  their 
eternal  salvation — will  their  "Lord,  Lord" 
avail  them  then?  Will  their  even  "prophe- 
sying" in  His  name,  and  in  His  name  "  doing 
many  wonderful  works,"  atone  for  their  re- 
bellion against  His  authority  and  its  require- 
ments ?  Certainly  not  1  Even  if  they  should 
-■^^  isr'7coryiy  believe  more  than  is  absolutely  re- 
quired, Tould  it  harm  them  ?  If  by  believing 
too  little,  salvati«L  d  is  endangerod,  are  not  such 
as  these  of  whom  I  have  been  writing,  at  least, 


.jr  ^ 


T' 


262 


THE  YOUNG   CONVERTS. 


on  the  safe  side  ?    I  "  Tcnoio  whereof  I  aflBrm," 
when  I  exclaim 

"  Oh  !  blest  are  they  who  live,  and  die,  like  these  !" 

My  task  is  almost  done  1  I  sincerely  wish 
it  better  done  1  I  have  lingered  lovingly  over 
it— 

"  With  only  such  degree  of  sadness  left, 
As  might  support  longings  of  pure  desire  ; 
And  strengthen  love  rejoicing  secretly 
In  the  sublime  attractions  of  the  Grave !" 

1  have  felt  while  dwelling  upon  the  singular 
history  of  these  our  precious  sisters  in  the 
Faith,  that  it  was  indeed  "  good  Tor  me"  to  be 
so  occupied  1  I  have  realized  the  truth  uttered 
by  the  wisest  of  men,  that  it  is  "  better  to  go 
to  the  house  of  mourning,  than  to  go  to  the 
house  of  feasting."  I  trust  I  shall  carry  with 
me  through  the  grave  and  into  Eternity,  the 
treasures  I  have  gathered  in  the  prosecution 
of  this  work.  May  the  perusal  of  these  simple 
Memoirs  produce  a  corresponding  effect  upon 
the  minds  of  my  young  friends.  Should  any 
one  among  them,  when  sinking  under  opposi- 
tion and  contempt,  or  when  tempted  by  ridi- 
cule, to  be  ashamed  of  their  rfcisgion  and  its 


THB  VOUNO   CONVERTa.  263 

practices,  be  encouraged  by  the  examples  hero 
recorded  to  return  to  their  first  allegiance,  and 
be  awakened  to  renewed  zeal  and  firmness  in 
the  confession  of  the  holy  Catholic  faith  in  the 
midst  of  its  enemies,  I  ^ihould  feel  my  humble 
efforts  amply  rewarded.  It  has  indeed  been  a 
labor  of  love^  as  well  as  of  blessed  obedience, 
for  me,  and  watered  with  abundant  tears! 
Truly  happy  shall  I  be,  if  I  have  been  enabled 
so  to  perform  the  behest  of  our  beloved  and 
respected  Bishop,  as  to  claim  tho  promise  that 
"  they:,*ir!m>i)w:  JDi/ieis  "ffiAlt  y^'in  joy," 
and  "VetWhingjoy  Hy  bring  my'shea^os  with 
me"  1»  ij¥^541fa£3»9f*j^€?J}Qrd'^T*:Hq£te,  ir  1*  m 
abundant  fruits  produced  by  it  among  our 
young  people  to  ^he  honor  and  glory  of  His 
Holy  Name !  - 


